CALVARY  ALLEY 


"  The  boy  is  infatuated  with  that  girl." 


CALVARY  ALLEY 


BY 


ALICE  HEGAN  RICE 

Author  of  "MRS.  WIGGS  OF  THE  CABBAGE  PATCH," 
"LOVEY  MARY,"  "SANDY,"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 
WALTER  BIGGS 


NEW  YORK 

THE  CENTURY  CO. 

1917 


Copyright,    1917,   by 
THE  CENTURY  Co. 


Published,  October,  1917 


THIS  STORY 

IS  AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATE  D 
TO 

THE  SMALL  BAND 
OF  KENTUCKY  WRITERS 

WITH  WHOM  IT  HAS  BEEN  MY 
HAPPY  FORTUNE  TO  MAKE 
THE  LITERARY  PILGRIMAGE 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  THE  FIGHT 3 

II  THE  SNAWDORS  AT  HOME  ....  14 

III  THE  CLARKES  AT  HOME  .  30 

IV  JUVENILE    COURT 44 

V  ON  PROBATION 62 

VI  BUTTERNUT  LANE 74 

VII  AN   EVICTION 83 

VIII  AMBITION    STIRS 97 

IX  BUTTONS no 

X  THE   PRINCESS   COMES   TO   GRIEF    .  120 

XI  THE  STATE  TAKES  A  HAND  .     .     .  129 

XII  CLARKE'S 141 

XIII  EIGHT  TO  Six 155 

XIV  IDLENESS 167 

XV  MARKING  TIME 179 

XVI  Miss    BOBINET'S 192 

XVII  BEHIND  THE  TWINKLING  LIGHTS   .  202 

XVIII  THE  FIRST  NIGHT 217 

XIX  PREPARATIONS  FOR  FLIGHT    .     .     .  228 

XX  WILD  OATS 245 

XXI  DAN 258 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXII  IN  THE  SIGNAL  TOWER    ....  271 

XXIII  CALVARY   CATHEDRAL 279 

XXIV  BACK  AT  CLARKE'S 293 

XXV  MAC 303 

XXVI  BETWEEN  Two  FIRES 312 

XXVII  FATE  TAKES  A  HAND 326 

XXVIII  THE  PRICE  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT  .     .  339 

XXIX  IN    TRAINING 351 

XXX  HER  FIRST  CASE 365 

XXXI  MR.  DEMRY 379 

XXXII  THE  NEW  FOREMAN 390 

XXXIII  NANCE  COMES  INTO  HER  OWN  .      .  400 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

"The  boy  is  infatuated  with  that  girl"    ....      Frontispiece 

FACING 
PAGE 

"Her  tense  muscles  relaxed;  she  forgot  to  cry"      ....     28 
"Don't  call  a  policeman!"  she  implored  wildly       ....  330 


CALVARY  ALLEY 


CALVARY  ALLEY 


CHAPTER  I 

THE    FIGHT 

YOU  never  would  guess  in  visiting  Cathedral 
Court,  with  its  people's  hall  and  its  public 
baths,  its  clean,  paved  street  and  general  air  of  smug 
propriety,  that  it  harbors  a  notorious  past.  But 
those  who  knew  it  by  its  maiden  name,  before  it  was 
married  to  respectability,  recall  Calvary  Alley  as  a 
region  of  swarming  tenements,  stale  beer  dives,  and 
frequent  police  raids.  The  sole  remaining  trace  of 
those  unregenerate  days  is  the  print  of  a  child's  foot 
in  the  concrete  walk  just  where  it  leaves  the  court 
and  turns  into  the  cathedral  yard. 

All  the  tired  feet  that  once  plodded  home  from 
factory  and  foundry,  all  the  unsteady  feet  that  stag 
gered  in  from  saloon  and  dance-hall,  all  the  fleeing 
feet  that  sought  a  hiding  place,  have  long  since 
passed  away  and  left  no  record  of  their  passing. 
Only  that  one  small  footprint,  with  its  perfect  out 
line,  still  pauses  on  its  way  out  of  the  alley  into  the 
great  world  beyond. 

At  the  time  Nance  Molloy  stepped  into  that  soft 


4  CALVARY  ALLEY 

concrete  and  thus  set  in  motion  the  series  of  events 
that  was  to  influence  her  future  career,  she  had 
never  been  told  that  her  inalienable  rights  were  life, 
liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness.  Nevertheless 
she  had  claimed  them  intuitively.  When  at  the  age 
of  one  she  had  crawled  out  of  the  soap-box  that 
served  as  a  cradle,  and  had  eaten  half  a  box  of  stove 
polish,  she  was  acting  in  strict  accord  with  the  Con 
stitution. 

By  the  time  she  reached  the  sophisticated  age  of 
eleven  her  ideals  had  changed,  but  her  principles 
remained  firm.  She  did  not  stoop  to  beg  for  her 
rights,  but  struck  out  for  them  boldly  with  her 
small  bare  fists.  She  was  a  glorious  survival  of  that 
primitive  Kentucky  type  that  stood  side  by  side  with 
man  in  the  early  battles  and  fought  valiantly  for 
herself. 

On  the  hot  August  day  upon  which  she  began  to 
make  history,  she  stood  in  the  gutter  amid  a  crowd 
of  yelling  boys,  her  feet  far  apart,  her  hands  full  of 
mud,  waiting  tensely  to  chastise  the  next  sleek  head 
that  dared  show  itself  above  the  cathedral  fence. 
She  wore  a  boy's  shirt  and  a  ragged  brown  skirt 
that  flapped  about  her  sturdy  bare  legs.  Her  matted 
hair  was  bound  in  two  disheveled  braids  around 
her  head  and  secured  with  a  piece  of  shoe-string. 
Her  dirty  round  face  was  lighted  up  by  a  pair  of 
dancing  blue  eyes,  in  which  just  now  blazed  the  un 
holy  light  of  conflict. 


THE  FIGHT  5 

The  feud  between  the  Calvary  Micks  and  the 
choir  boys  was  an  ancient  one,  carried  on  from  one 
generation  to  another  and  gaining  prestige  with  age. 
It  was  apt  to  break  out  on  Saturday  afternoons, 
after  rehearsal,  when  the  choirmaster  had  taken  his 
departure.  Frequently  the  disturbance  amounted  to 
no  more  than  taunts  and  jeers  on  one  side  and 
threats  and  recriminations  on  the  other,  but  the  at 
mosphere  that  it  created  was  of  that  electrical  nature 
that  might  at  any  moment  develop  a  storm. 

Nance  Molloy,  at  the  beginning  of  the  present 
controversy,  had  been  actively  engaged  in  civil  war 
fare  in  which  the  feminine  element  of  the  alley  was 
pursuing  a  defensive  policy  against  the  marauding 
masculine.  But  at  the  first  indication  of  an  out 
side  enemy,  the  herd  instinct  manifested  itself,  and 
she  allied  herself  with  prompt  and  passionate  loy 
alty  to  the  cause  of  the  Calvary  Micks.' 

The  present  argument  was  raging  over  the  pos 
session  of  a  spade  that  had  been  left  in  the  alley 
by  the  workmen  who  were  laying  a  concrete  pave 
ment  into  the  cathedral  yard. 

"  Aw,  leave  'em  have  it !  "  urged  a  philosophical 
alleyite  from  the  top  of  a  barrel.  "  Them  ole  ave- 
noo  kids  ain't  nothin' !  -  We  could  lick  daylight 
outen  'em  if  we  wanted  to." 

"  Ye-e-e-s  you  could !  "  came  in  a  chorus  of  jeers 
from  the  fence  top,  and  a  brown-eyed  youth  in  a 
white-frilled  shirt,  with  a  blue  Windsor  tie  knotted 


6  CALVARY  ALLEY 

under  his  sailor  collar,  added  imperiously,  "  You  get 
too  fresh  down  there,  and  I  '11  call  the  janitor!  " 

This  gross  breach  of  military  etiquette  evoked  a 
retort  from  Nance  that  was  too  inelegant  to  chroni 
cle. 

"Tomboy!  tomboy!"  jeered  the  brown-eyed 
youth  from  above.  "  Why  don't  you  borrow  some 
girls'  clothes?  " 

"  All  right,  Sissy,"  said  Nance,  "  lend  me  yours." 

The  Micks  shrieked  their  approval,  while  Nance 
rolled  a  mud  ball  and,  with  the  deadly  aim  of  a 
sharpshooter,  let  it  fly  straight  at  the  white-frilled 
bosom  of  her  tormentor. 

"  Soak  it  to  her,  Mac,"  yelled  the  boy  next  to 
him,  "  the  kid  's  got  no  business  butting  in!  Make 
her  get  out  of  the  way! " 

"  Go  on  and  make  me !  "  implored  Nance. 

"  I  will  if  you  don't  stand  back,"  threatened  the 
boy  called  Mac. 

Nance  promptly  stepped  up  to  the  alley  gate  and 
wiggled  her  fingers  in  a  way  peculiarly  provocative 
to  a  juvenile  enemy. 

"  Poor  white  trash !  "  he  jeered.  "  You  stay 
where  you  belong!  Don't  you  step  on  our  con 
crete  ! " 

"  Will  if  I  want  to.  It 's  my  foot.  I  '11  put  it 
where  I  like." 

"  Bet  you  don't.     You  're  afraid  to." 

"  I  ain't  either." 


THE  FIGHT  7 

"  Well,  do  it  then.  I  dare  you !  Anybody  that 
would  take  a  — " 

In  a  second  Nance  had  thrust  her  leg  as  far  as 
possible  between  the  boards  that  warned  the  public 
to  keep  out,  and  had  planted  a  small  alien  foot  firmly 
in  the  center  of  the  soft  cement. 

This  audacious  act  was  the  signal  for  instant  bat 
tle.  With  yells  of  indignation  the  choir  boys  hurled 
themselves  from  the  fence,  and  descended  upon  their 
foes.  Mud  gave  place  to  rocks,  sticks  clashed,  the 
air  resounded  with  war  cries.  Ash  barrels  were 
overturned,  straying  cats  made  flying  leaps  for 
safety,  heads  appeared  at  doorways  and  windows, 
and  frantic  mothers  made  futile  efforts  to  quell  the 
riot. 

Thus  began  the  greatest  fight  ever  enjoyed  in  Cal 
vary  Alley.  It  went  down  in  neighborhood  annals 
as  the  decisive  clash  between  the  classes,  in  which 
the  despised  swells  "  was  learnt  to  know  their  places 
onct  an'  fer  all !  "  For  ten  minutes  it  raged  with 
unabated  fury,  then  when  the  tide  of  battle  began 
to  set  unmistakably  in  favor  of  the  alley,  parental 
authority  waned  and  threats  changed  to  cheers. 
Old  and  young  united  in  the  conviction  that  the 
Monroe  Doctrine  must  be  maintained  at  any  cost! 

In  and  out  of  the  subsiding  pandemonium  darted 
Nance  Molloy,  covered  with  mud  from  the  shoe 
string  on  her  hair  to  the  rag  about  her  toe,  giving 
and  taking  blows  with  the  best,  and  emitting  yells 


8  CALVARY  ALLEY 

of  frenzied  victory  over  every  vanquished  foe. 
Suddenly  her  transports  were  checked  by  a  disturb 
ing  sight.  At  the  end  of  the  alley,  locked  in  mor 
tal  combat,  she  beheld  her  arch-enemy,  he  of  the 
brown  eyes  and  the  frilled  shirt,  whom  the  boys 
called  Mac,  sitting  astride  the  hitherto  invincible 
Dan  Lewis,  the  former  philosopher  of  the  ash  bar 
rel  and  one  of  the  acknowledged  leaders  of  the 
Calvary  Micks. 

It  was  a  moment  of  intense  chagrin  for  Nance, 
untempered  by  the  fact  that  Dan's  adversary  was 
much  the  bigger  boy.  Up  to  this* time,  the  whole 
affair  had  been  a  glorious  game,  but  at  the  sight  of 
the  valiant  Dan  lying  helpless  on  his  back,  his  mouth 
bloody  from  the  blows  of  the  boy  above  him,  the 
comedy  changed  suddenly  to  tragedy.  With  a  swift 
charge  from  the  rear,  she  flung  herself  upon  the 
victor,  clapping  her  mud-daubed  hands  about  his 
eyes  and  dragging  him  backward  with  a  force  that 
sent  them  both  rolling  in  the  gutter. 

Blind  with  fury,  the  boy  scrambled  to  his  feet, 
and,  seizing  a  rock,  hurled  it  with  all  his  strength 
after  the  retreating  Dan.  The  missile  flew  wide  of 
its  mark  and,  whizzing  high  over  the  fence,  crashed 
through  the  great  rose  window  that  was  the  special 
pride  of  Calvary  Cathedral. 

The  din  of  breaking  glass,  the  simultaneous  ap 
pearance  of  a  cross-eyed  policeman,  and  of  Mason, 
the  outraged  janitor,  together  with  the  horrified 


THE  FIGHT  9 

realization  of  what  had  happened,  brought  the  fren 
zied  combatants  to  their  senses.  Amid  a  clamor 
of  accusations  and  denials,  the  policeman  seized 
upon  two  culprits  and  indicated  a  third. 

"You  let  me  go!"  shrieked  Mac.  "My  fa 
ther  '11  make  it  all  right !  Tell  him  who  I  am, 
Mason !  Make  him  let  me  go !  " 

But  Mason  was  bent  upon  bringing  all  the  crimi 
nals  to  justice. 

"  I  'm  going  to  have  you  all  up  before  the  juve 
nile  court,  rich  and  poor ! "  he  declared  excitedly. 
"  You  been  deviling  the  life  out  of  me  long  enough! 
If  the  vestry  had  'a'  listened  at  me  and  had  you 
up  before  now,  that  window  would  n't  be  smashed. 
I  told  the  bishop  something  was  going  to  happen, 
and  he  says,  '  The  next  time  there  's  trouble,  you 
find  the  leaders  and  swear  out  a  warrant.  Don't 
wait  to  ask  anybody ! ' 

By  this  time  every  window  in  the  tenement  at  the 
blind  end  of  the  alley  had  been  converted  into  a 
proscenium  box,  and  suggestions,  advice,  and  in 
criminating  evidence  were  being  freely  volunteered. 

"  Who  started  this  here  racket,  anyhow?"  asked 
the  policeman,  in  the  bored  tone  of  one  who  is  re 
hearsing  an  oft-repeated  scene. 

"  I  did,"  declared  Nance  Molloy,  with  something 
of  the  feminine  gratification  Helen  of  Troy  must 
have  felt  when  she  "  launched  a  thousand  ships  and 
burnt  the  topless  towers  of  Ilium." 


io  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  You  Nance!  "  screamed  a  woman  from  a  third- 
story  window.  "  You  know  you  never  done  no 
such  a  thing!  I  was  settin'  here  an'  seen  ever'- 
thing  that  happened ;  it  was  them  there  boys." 

"So  it  was  you,  Dan  Lewis,  was  it?"  said  the 
policeman,  recognizing  one  of  his  panting  victims, 
the  one  whose  ragged  shirt  had  been  torn  completely 
off,  leaving  his  heaving  chest  and  brown  shoulders 
bare.  "  An'  it  ain't  surprised,  I  am.  Who  is  this 
other  little  dude?  " 

"  None  of  your  business !  "  cried  Mac  furiously, 
trying  to  wrench  himself  free.  "  I  tell  you  my 
father  will  pay  for  the  darned  old  window." 

"  Aisy  there,"  said  the  policeman.  "  Does  any 
body  know  him  ?  " 

"  It 's  Mr.  Clarke's  son,  up  at  the  bottle  works," 
said  Mason. 

"You  let  me  go,"  shrieked  the  now  half-frantic 
boy.  "  My  father  '11  make  you  pay  for  this.  You 
see  if  he  don't! " 

"  None  o'  your  guff,"  said  the  policeman.  "  I 
ain't  want  in'  to  keep  you  now  I  got  your  name. 
Onny  more  out  o'  the  boonch,  Mr.  Mason?  " 

Mason  swept  a  gleaning  eye  over  the  group,  and 
as  he  did  so  he  spied  the  footprint  in  the  concrete. 

"  Who  did  that?  "  he  demanded  in  a  fresh  burst 
of  wrath. 

Those  choir  boys  who  had  not  fled  the  scene 
gave  prompt  and  incriminating  testimony. 


THE  FIGHT  11 

"  No !  she  never !  "  shouted  the  woman  from  the 
third  floor,  now  suspended  half-way  out  of  the  win 
dow.  "  Nance  Molloy  was  up  here  a-washin' 
dishes  with  me.  Don't  you  listen  at  them  pasty- 
faced  cowards  a-puttin'  it  off  on  a  innercent  little 
girl!" 

But  the  innocent  little  girl  had  no  idea  of  seeking 
refuge  in  her  sex.  Hers  had  been  a  glorious  and 
determining  part  in  the  day's  battle,  and  the  dis 
tinction  of  having  her  name  taken  down  with  those 
of  the  great  leaders  was  one  not  to  be  foregone. 

"  I  did  do  it,"  she  declared  excitedly.  "  That 
there  boy  dared  me  to.  Ketch  me  takin'  a  dare 
off  en  a  avenoo  kid !  " 

"  What 's  your  name,  Sis?  "  asked  the  policeman. 

"  Nance  Molloy." 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?  " 

"  Up  there  at  Snawdor's.  That  there  was  Mis' 
Snawdor  a-yellin'  at  me." 

"  Is  she  yer  mother?  " 

"  Nope.     She  's  me  step." 

"And  yer  father?" 

"  He  's  me  step  too.  I  'm  a  two-step,"  she  added 
with  an  impudent  toss  of  the  head  to  show  her  con 
tempt  for  the  servant  of  the  law,  a  blue-coated, 
brass-buttoned  interloper  who  swooped  down  on 
you  from  around  corners,  and  reported  you  at  all 
times  and  seasons. 

By  this  time  Mrs.  Snawdor  had  gotten  herself 


12  CALVARY  ALLEY 

down  the  two  flights  of  stairs,  and  was  emerging 
from  the  door  of  the  tenement,  taking  down  her 
curl  papers  as  she  came.  She  was  a  plump,  per 
spiring  person  who  might  have  boasted  good  looks 
had  it  not  been  for  two  eye-teeth  that  completely 
dominated  her  facial  landscape. 

'You  surely  ain't  fixin'  to  report  her?"  she 
asked  ingratiatingly  of  Mason.  "  A  little  'leven- 
year-ole  orphin  that  never  done  no  harm  to  no 
body?" 

"  It 's  no  use  arguing,"  interrupted  Mason  firmly. 
"  I  'm  going  to  file  out  a  warrant  against  them  three 
children  if  it's  the  last  act  of  my  mortal  life. 
There  ain't  a  boy  in  the  alley  that  gives  me  any 
more  trouble  than  that  there  little  girl,  a-throwin' 
mud  over  the  fence  and  climbing  round  the  coping 
and  sneaking  into  the  cathedral  to  look  under  the 
pews  for  nickels,  if  I  so  much  as  turn  my  back!  " 

"He  wants  the  nickels  hisself!"  cried  Nance 
shrilly,  pushing  her  nose  flat  and  pursing  her  lips  in 
such  a  clever  imitation  of  the  irate  janitor  that  the 
alley  shrieked  with  joy. 

;<  You  limb  o'  Satan !  "  cried  Mrs.  Snawdor,  mak 
ing  a  futile  pass  at  her.  "  It 's  a  God's  mericle  you 
ain't  been  took  up  before  this!  And  it 's  me  as  '11 
have  the  brunt  to  bear,  a-stoppin'  my  work  to  go 
to  court,  a-lying  to  yer  good  character,  an'  a-payin' 
the  fine.  It 's  a  pity  able-bodied  men  like  police- 
mens  an'  janitors  can't  be  tendin'  their  own  business 


THE  FIGHT  13 

'stid  of  comin'  inter ferin'  with  the  family  of  a  hard- 
workin'  woman  like  me.  If  there  's  any  justice  in 
this  wrorld  it  ain't  never  flowed  in  my  direction !  " 

And  Mrs.  Snawdor,  half  dragging,  half  pushing 
Nance,  disappeared  into  the  dark  entrance  of  the 
tenement,  breathing  maledictions  first  against  her 
charge,  then  against  the  tyranny  of  the  law. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   SNAWDORS   AT    HOME 

IF  ever  a  place  had  a  down-at-heel,  out-of-elbow 
sort  of  look,  it  was  Calvary  Alley.  At  its  open 
end  and  two  feet  above  it  the  city  went  rushing 
and  roaring  past  like  a  great  river,  quite  oblivious 
of  this  unhealthy  bit  of  backwater  into  which  some 
of  its  flotsam  and  jetsam  had  been  caught  and  held, 
generating  crime  and  disease  and  sending  them  out 
again  into  the  main  current. 

For  despite  the  fact  that  the  alley  rested  under 
the  very  wing  of  the  great  cathedral  from  which 
it  took  its  name,  despite  the  fact  that  it  echoed 
daily  to  the  chimes  in  the  belfry  and  at  times  could 
even  hear  the  murmured  prayers  of  the  congrega 
tion,  it  concerned  itself  not  in  the  least  with  matters 
of  the  spirit.  Heaven  was  too  remote  and  mysteri 
ous,  Hell  too  present  and  prosaic,  to  be  of  the  least 
interest.  And  the  cathedral  itself,  holding  out  wel 
coming  arms  to  all  the  noble  avenues  that  stretched 
in  leafy  luxury  to  the  south,  forgot  entirely  to 
glance  over  its  shoulder  at  the  sordid  little  neigh 
bor  that  lay  under  the  very  shadow  of  its  cross. 

At  the  blind  end  of  the  alley,  wedged  in  between 
14 


THE  SNAWDORS  AT  HOME          15 

two  towering  warehouses,  was  Number  One,  a  ram 
shackle  tenement  which  in  some  forgotten  day  had 
been  a  fine  old  colonial  residence.  The  city  had 
long  since  hemmed  it  in  completely,  and  all  that 
remained  of  its  former  grandeur  were  a  flight  of 
broad  steps  that  once  boasted  a  portico  and  the  im 
posing,  fan-shaped  arch  above  the  doorway. 

In  the  third  floor  of  Number  One,  on  the  side 
next  the  cathedral,  dwelt  the  Snawdor  family,  a 
social  unit  of  somewhat  complex  character.  The 
complication  came  about  by  the  paterfamilias  hav 
ing  missed  his  calling.  Mr.  Snawdor  was  by  in 
stinct  and  inclination  a  bachelor.  He  had  early  in 
life  found  a  modest  rut  in  which  he  planned  to  run 
undisturbed  into  eternity,  but  he  had  been  discov 
ered  by  a  widow,  who  was  possessed  of  an  initiative 
which,  to  a  man  of  Snawdor's  retiring  nature,  was 
destiny. 

At  the  time  she  met  him  she  had  already  led  two 
reluctant  captives 'to  the  hymeneal  altar,  and  was 
wont  to  boast,  when  twitted  about  the  fact,  that 
"  the  Lord  only  knew  what  she  might  'a'  done  if  it 
had  n't  been  fer  them  eye-teeth !  "  Her  first  hus 
band  had  been  Bud  Molloy,  a  genial  young  Irish 
man  who  good-naturedly  allowed  himself  to  be  mar 
ried  out  of  gratitude  for  her  care  of  his  motherless 
little  Nance.  Bud  had  not  lived  to  repent  the  act ; 
in  less  than  a  month  he  heroically  went  over  an  em 
bankment  with  his  engine,  in  one  of  those  fortunate 


1 6  CALVARY  ALLEY 

accidents  in  which  "  only  the  engineer  is  killed." 
The  bereft  widow  lost  no  time  in  seeking  conso 
lation.  Naturally  the  first  person  to  present  him 
self  on  terms  of  sympathetic  intimacy  was  the  un 
dertaker  who  officiated  at  poor  Bud's  funeral.  At 
the  end  of  six  months  she  married  him,  and  was 
just  beginning  to  enjoy  the  prestige  which  his  pro 
fession  gave  her,  when  Air.  Yager  also  passed  away, 
becoming,  as  it  were,  his  own  customer.  Her  leg 
acy  from  him  consisted  of  a  complete  embalming 
outfit  and  a  feeble  little  Yager  who  inherited  her 
father's  tendency  to  spells. 

Thus  encumbered  with  two  small  girls,  a  less 
sanguine  person  would  have  retired  from  the  matri 
monial  market.  But  Mrs.  Yager  was  not  easily  dis 
couraged;  she  was  of  a  marrying  nature,  and  evi 
dently  resolved  that  neither  man  nor  Providence 
should  stand  in  her  way.  Again  casting  a  specula 
tive  eye  over  the  field,  she  discerned  a  new  shop  in 
the  alley,  the  sign  of  which  announced  that  the 
owner  dealt  in  "  Bungs  and  Fawcetts."  On  the 
evening  of  the  same  day  the  chronic  ailment  from 
which  the  kitchen  sink  had  suffered  for  two  years 
was  declared  to  be  acute,  and  Mr.  Snawdor  was 
called  in  for  consultation. 

He  was  a  timid,  dejected  person  with  a  small 
pointed  chin  that  trembled  when  he  spoke.  Despite 
the  easy  conventions  of  the  alley,  he  kept  his 
clothes  neatly  brushed  and  his  shoes  polished,  and 


THE  SNAWDORS  AT  HOME          17 

wore  a  collar  on  week  days.  These  signs  of  pros 
perity  were  his  undoing.  Before  he  had  time  to 
realize  what  was  happening  to  him,  he  had  been 
skilfully  jolted  out  of  his  rut  by  the  widow's  ex 
perienced  hand,  and  bumped  over  a  hurried  court 
ship  into  a  sudden  marriage.  He  returned  to  con 
sciousness  to  find  himself  possessed  of  a  wife  and 
two  stepchildren  and  moved  from  his  small  neat 
room  over  his  shop  to  the  indescribable  disorder  of 
Number  One. 

The  subsequent  years  had  brought  many  little 
Snawdors  in  their  wake,  and  Mr.  Snawdor,  being 
thus  held  up  by  the  highwayman  Life,  ignominiously 
surrendered.  He  did  not  like  being  married ;  he  did 
not  enjoy  being  a  father;  his  one  melancholy  satis 
faction  lay  in  being  a  martyr. 

Mrs.  Snawdor,  who  despite  her  preference  for 
the  married  state  derived  little  joy  from  domestic 
duties,  was  quite  content  to  sally  forth  as  a  wage- 
earner.  By  night  she  scrubbed  office  buildings  and 
by  day  she  slept  and  between  times  she  sought  di 
version  in  the  affairs  of  her  neighbors. 

Thus  it  was  that  the  household  burdens  fell 
largely  upon  Nance  Molloy's  small  shoulders,  and  if 
she  wiped  the  dishes  without  washing  them,  and 
"  shook  up  the  beds  "  without  airing  them,  and  fed 
the  babies  dill  pickles,  it  was  no  more  than  older 
housekeepers  were  doing  all  around  her. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  day  of  the  fight, 


i8  CALVARY  ALLEY 

when  the  sun,  despairing  of  making  things  any  hot 
ter  than  they  were,  dropped  behind  the  warehouse, 
Nance,  carrying  a  box  of  crackers,  a  chunk  of 
cheese,  and  a  bucket  of  beer,  dodged  in  and  out 
among  the  push-carts  and  the  barrels  of  the  alley 
on  her  way  home  from  Slap  Jack's  saloon.  There 
was  a  strong  temptation  on  her  part  to  linger,  for 
a  hurdy-gurdy  up  at  the  corner  was  playing  a  favor 
ite  tune,  and  echoes  of  the  fight  were  still  heard 
from  animated  groups  in  various  doorways.  But 
Nance's  ears  still  tingled  from  a  recent  boxing,  and 
she  resolutely  kept  on  her  way  until  she  reached 
the  worn  steps  of  Number  One  and  scurried 
through  its  open  doorway. 

The  nice  distinction  between  a  flat  and  a  tene 
ment  is  that  the  front  door  of  one  is  always  kept 
closed,  and  the  other  open.  In  this  particular  in 
stance  the  matter  admitted  of  no  discussion,  for 
there  was  no  front  door.  The  one  that  originally 
hung  under  the  fan-shaped  Colonial  arch  had  long 
since  been  kicked  in  during  some  nocturnal  raid,  and 
had  never  been  replaced. 

When  the  gas  neglected  to  get  itself  lighted  before 
dark  at  Number  One,  you  had  to  feel  your  way 
along  the  hall  in  complete  darkness,  until  your  foot 
struck  something;  then  you  knew  you  had  reached 
the  stairs  and  you  began  to  climb.  It  was  just  as 
well  to  feel  along  the  damp  wall  as  you  went,  for 


THE  SNAWDORS  AT  HOME          19 

somebody  was  always  leaving  things  on  the  steps 
for  people  to  stumble  over. 

Nance  groped  her  way  cautiously,  resting  her 
bucket  every  few  steps  and  taking  a  lively  interest 
in  the  sounds  and  smells  that  came  from  behind  the 
various  closed  doors  she  passed.  She  knew  from 
the  angry  voices  on  the  first  floor  that  Mr.  Smelts- 
had  come  home  "  as  usual " ;  she  knew  who  was 
having  sauer-kraut  for  supper,  and  whose  bread 
was  burning. 

The  odor  of  cooking  food  reminded  her  of  some 
thing.  The  hall  was  dark  and  the  beer  can  full, 
so  she  sat  down  at  the  top  of  the  first  flight  and, 
putting  her  lip^  to  the  foaming  bucket  was  about 
to  drink,  when  the  door  behind  her  opened  and  a 
keen-faced  young  Jew  peered  out. 

"  Say,  Nance,"  he  whispered  curiously,  "  have 
they  swore  out  the  warrant  on  you  yet?  " 

Nance  put  down  the  bucket  and  looked  up  at  him 
with  a  fine  air  of  unconcern. 

"Don't  know  and  don't  keer!"  she  said. 
"  Where  was  you  hidin'  at,  when  the  fight  was  goin' 
on?" 

"  Getting  my  lessons.  Did  the  cop  pinch  the 
Clarke  guy?  " 

"  You  betcher,"  said  Nance.  "  You  orter  seen 
the  way  he  took  on !  Begged  to  beat  the  band.  Me 
and  Danny  never.  Me  and  him  — " 


20  CALVARY  ALLEY 

A  volley  of  curses  came  from  the  hall  below,  the 
sound  of  a  blow,  followed  by  a  woman's  faint 
scream  of  protest,  then  a  door  slammed. 

"  If  I  was  Mis'  Smelts,"  said  Nance  darkly,  with 
a  look  that  was  too  old  for  ten  years,  "  I  would  n't 
stand  for  that.  I  would  n't  let  no  man  hit  me. 
I  'd  get  him  sent  up.  I  — " 

"  You  walk  yourself  up  them  steps,  Nance  Mol- 
loy !  "  commanded  Mrs.  Snawdor's  rasping  voice 
from  the  floor  above.  "  I  ain't  got  no  time  to  be 
waitin'  while  you  gas  with  Ike  Lavinsky." 

Nance,  thus  admonished,  obeyed  orders,  arriving 
on  the  domestic  hearth  in  time  to  prevent  the  soup 
from  boiling  over.  Mr.  Snawdor,  wearing  a  long 
apron  and  an  expression  of  tragic  doom,  was  try 
ing  to  set  the  table,  while  over  and  above  and  be 
neath  him  surged  his  turbulent  offspring.  In  a 
broken  rocking-chair,  fanning  herself  with  a  box- 
top,  sat  Mrs.  Snawdor,  indulging  herself  in  a  con 
tinuous  stream  of  conversation  and  apparently  un 
disturbed  by  the  uproar  around  her.  Mrs.  Snawdor 
was  not  sensitive  to  discord.  As  a  necessary  ad 
justment  to  their  environment,  her  nerves  had  be 
come  soundproof. 

"  You  certainly  missed  it  by  not  being  here ! " 
she  was  saying  to  Mr.  Snawdor.  "  It  was  one  of 
the  liveliest  mix-ups  ever  I  seen!  One  of  them  rich 
boys  bust  the  cathedral  window.  Some  say  it  '11 
cost  over  a  thousan'  dollars  to  git  it  fixed.  An'  I 


THE  SNAWDORS  AT  HOME          21 

pray  to  God  his  paw  '11  have  to  pay  every  cent  of 
it!" 

"  Can't  you  make  William  J.  and  Rosy  stop  that 
racket?"  queried  Mr.  Snawdor,  plaintively.  The 
twins  had  been  named  at  a  time  when  Mrs.  Snaw- 
dor's  loyalty  was  wavering  between  the  President 
and  another  distinguished  statesman  with  whom  she 
associated  the  promising  phrase,  "  free  silver." 
The  arrival  of  two  babies  made  a  choice  unneces 
sary,  and,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  one  of  them 
was  a  girl,  she  named  them  William  J.  and  Roose 
velt,  reluctantly  abbreviating  the  latter  to  "  Rosy." 
'  They  ain't  hurtin'  nothin',"  she  said,  impatient 
of  the  interruption  to  her  story.  "  I  wisht  you 
might  'a'  seen  that  ole  fool  Mason  a-lordin'  it 
aroun',  an'  that  little  devil  Nance  a-takin'  him  off 
to  the  life.  Everybody  nearly  died  a-laughin'  at 
her.  But  he  says  he 's  goin'  to  have  her  up  in 
court,  an'  I  ain't  got  a  blessed  thing  to  wear  'cept 
that  ole  hat  of  yours  I  trimmed  up.  Looks  like  a 
shame  fer  a  woman  never  to  be  fixed  to  go  no 
where  ! " 

Mr.  Snawdor,  who  had  been  trying  ineffectually 
to  get  in  a  word,  took  this  remark  personally  and  in 
muttering  tones  called  Heaven  to  witness  that  it  was 
none  of  his  fault  that  she  did  n't  have  the  right 
clothes,  and  that  it  was  a  pretty  kind  of  a  world 
that  would  keep  a  man  from  gettin'  on  just  because 
he  was  honest,  and  — 


22  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  Oh,  shut  up!  "  said  Mrs.  Snawdor,  unfeelingly; 
"  it  ain't  yer  lack  of  work  that  gits  on  my  nerves ; 
it 's  yer  bein'  'round.  I  'd  pay  anybody  a  quarter  a 
week  to  keep  yer  busy!  " 

Nance,  during  this  exchange  of  conjugal  infelici 
ties,  assisted  by  Lobelia  and  Fidy,  was  rescuing 
sufficient  dishes  from  the  kitchen  sink  to  serve  for 
the  evening  meal.  She,  too,  was  finding  it  difficult 
to  bring  her  attention  to  bear  on  domestic  matters 
after  the  exciting  events  of  the  afternoon. 

"  An'  he  says  to  me," —  she  was  recounting  with 
dramatic  intensity  to  her  admiring  audience  — "  he 
says,  '  Keep  offen  that  concrete.'  An'  I  says,  '  It  '11 
take  somebody  bigger  'n  you  to  make  me ! ' 

Now,  of  course,  we  know  that  Nance  never  said 
that,  but  it  was  what  she  wished  she  had  said,  which, 
at  certain  moments  in  life,  seems  to  the  best  of  us 
to  be  quite  the  same  thing. 

"  Then  what?  "  said  Fidy,  with  a  plate  suspended 
in  air. 

"  Then,"  said  Nance  with  sparkling  eyes,  "  I 
sticks  my  foot  right  in  the  middle  of  their  old  con 
crete,  an'  they  comes  pilin'  offen  the  fence,  an'  Dan 
Lewis  he  — " 

"  You  Nance !  "  came  in  warning  tones  from  the 
other  room,  "  you  shet  your  head  an'  git  on  with 
that  supper.  Here  comes  your  Uncle  Jed  this  min 
ute  !  " 

At  this  announcement  Nance  dropped  her  dish 


THE  SNAWDORS  AT  HOME          23 

towel,  and  dashing  to  the  door  flung  herself  into 
the  arms  of  a  short,  fat,  baldheaded  man  who  had 
just  come  out  of  the  front  room  across  the  hall. 

"  Easy  there !  "  warned  the  new-comer.  "  You 
ain't  aimin'  to  butt  the  engine  clean  offen  the  track, 
air  yer?  " 

Nance  got  his  arm  around  her  neck,  and  her  arm 
around  his  knees,  and  thus  entwined  they  made 
their  way  to  the  table. 

Uncle  Jed  Burks,  uncle  by  courtesy,  was  a  boarder 
by  day  and  a  gate-tender  by  night  at  the  signal 
tower  at  the  railroad  crossing.  On  that  day  long 
ago  when  he  had  found  himself  a  widower,  help 
less  in  the  face  of  domestic  problems,  he  had  ac 
cepted  Mrs.  Snawdor's  prompt  offer  of  hospitality 
and  come  across  the  hall  for  his  meals.  At  the  end 
of  the  week  he  had  been  allowed  to  show  his  grati 
tude  by  paying  the  rent,  and  by  the  end  of  the 
month  he  had  become  the  chief  prop  of  the  family. 
It  is  difficult  to  conceive  of  an  Atlas  choosing  to 
burden  himself  with  the  world,  but  there  are  tem 
peraments  that  seek  responsibilities  just  as  there  are 
those,  like  Mr.  Snawdor,  who  refuse  them. 

Through  endless  discomforts,  Uncle  Jed  had 
stayed  on,  coaxing  Mr.  Snawdor  into  an  acceptance 
of  his  lot,  helping  Mrs.  Snawdor  over  financial  diffi 
culties,  and  bestowing  upon  the  little  Snawdors  the 
affection  which  they  failed  to  elicit  from  either  the 
maternal  or  the  paternal  bosom.  And  the  amazing 


24  CALVARY  ALLEY 

thing  was  that  Uncle  Jed  always  thought  he  was 
receiving  favors  instead  of  conferring  them. 

"  What 's  this  I  hear  about  my  little  partner  git- 
tin'  into  trouble?"  he  asked,  catching  Nance's  chin 
in  his  palm  and  turning  her  smudged,  excited  face 
up  to  his. 

Nance's  eyes  fell  before  his  glance.  For  the  first 
time  since  the  fight  her  pride  was  mingled  with 
misgiving.  But  when  Mrs.  Snawdor  plunged 
into  a  fresh  recital  of  the  affair,  with  evident  ap 
proval  of  the  part  she  had  played,  her  self-esteem 
returned. 

"  And  you  say  Mason  's  fixin'  to  send  her  up  to 
the  juvenile  court?"  asked  Uncle  Jed  gravely,  his 
fat  hand  closing  on  her  small  one. 

"  Dan  Lewis  has  got  to  go  too ! "  said  Nance,  a 
sudden  apprehension  seizing  her  at  Uncle  Jed's 
solemn  face. 

"  Oh,  they  won't  do  nothin'  to  'em,"  said  Mrs. 
Snawdor,  pouring  hot  water  over  the  coffee  grounds 
and  shaking  the  pot  vigorously.  "  Ever'body  knows 
it  was  the  Clarke  boy  that  bust  the  window. 
Clarke's  Bottle  Works'  son,  you  know,  up  there  on 
Zender  Street." 

"  Was  it  the  Clarke  boy  and  Dan  Lewis  that 
started  the  fracas  ?  "  asked  Uncle  Jed. 

"  No,  it  was  me !  "  put  in  Nance. 

"  Now,  Nance  Molloy,  you  lemme  hear  you  say 
that  one  time  more,  an'  you  know  what  '11  happen !  " 


THE  SNAWDORS  AT  HOME          25 

said  Mrs.  Snawdor,  impressively.  "  You  're  fixin' 
to  make  me  pay  a  fine." 

"  I  'm  mighty  sorry  Dan  Lewis  is  mixed  up  in 
it,"  said  Uncle  Jed,  shaking  his  head.  "  This  here  's 
his  second  offense.  He  was  had  up  last  year." 

"An'  can  you  wonder?"  asked  Mrs.  Snawdor, 
"  with  his  mother  what  she  is  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Lewis  ain't  a  bad  looker,"  Mr.  Snawdor 
roused  himself  to  observe  dejectedly. 

His  wife  turned  upon  him  indignantly.  "Well, 
it 's  a  pity  she  ain't  as  good  as  her  looks  then.  Fer 
my  part  I  can't  see  it 's  to  any  woman's  credit  to 
look  nice  when  she  's  got  the  right  kind  of  a  switch 
and  a  good  set  of  false  teeth.  It 's  the  woman  that 
keeps  her  good  looks  without  none  of  them  luxuries 
that  orter  be  praised." 

"  Mrs.  Lewis  ain't  done  her  part  by  Dan,"  said 
Uncle  Jed,  seating  himself  at  the  red-clothed  table. 

"  I  should  say  she  ain't,"  Mrs.  Snawdor  contin 
ued.  "  I  never  seen  nothin'  more  pathetical  than 
that  there  boy  when  he  was  no  more  than  three  years 
old,  a-tryin'  to  feed  hisself  outer  the  garbage  can, 
an'  her  a  comin'  an'  a  goin'  in  the  alley  all  these 
years  with  her  nose  in  the  air,  too  good  to  speak  to 
anybody." 

"  Dan  don't  think  his  mother  's  bad  to  him,"  said 
Nance.  "  He  saved  up  his  shoe-shine  money  an' 
bought  her  some  perfumery.  He  lemme  smell  it." 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  Mrs.  Snawdor,  "she's  got  to 


26  CALVARY  ALLEY 

have  her  perfumery,  an'  her  feather  in  her  hat,  an' 
the  whitewash  on  her  face,  no  matter  if  Dan's  feet 
are  on  the  groun',  air  his  naked  hide  shinin'  through 
his  shirt." 

"  Well,  I  wish  him  an'  this  here  little  girl  was  n't 
mixed  up  in  this  business,"  repeated  Uncle  Jed. 
"  Courts  ain't  no  place  fer  children.  Seems  like  I 
can't  stand  fer  our  little  Nance  to  be  mixin'  up  with 
shady  characters." 

Nance  shot  an  apprehensive  glance  at  him  and 
began  to  look  anxious.  She  he*d  never  seen  Uncle 
Jed  so  solemn  before. 

"  You  jes'  remember  this  here,  Nancy,"  went  on 
the  signalman,  who  could  no  more  refrain  from 
pointing  a  moral  when  the  chance  presented  itself, 
than  a  gun  can  help  going  off  when  the  trigger  is 
pulled ;  "  nothin'  good  ever  comes  from  breakin' 
laws.  They  wouldn't  a-been  made  into  la\vs  if 
they  was  n't  fer  our  good,  an'  even  when  we  don't 
see  no  reason  in  keepin'  'em,  we  ain't  got  no  more 
right  to  break  through  than  one  of  them  engines  up 
at  the  crossing  's  got  a  right  to  come  ahead  when 
I  signals  it  from  the  tower  to  stop.  I  been  handin' 
out  laws  to  engines  fer  goin'  on  thirty  year,  an'  I 
never  seen  one  yet  that  bust  over  a  law  that  did  n't 
come  to  grief.  You  keep  on  the  track,  Sister,  an' 
watch  the  signals  an'  obey  orders  an'  you  '11  find  it 
pays  in  the  end.  An'  now,  buck  up,  an'  don't  be 
scared.  We  '11  see  what  we  can  do  to  git  you  off." 


27 

"Who's  skeered?"  said  Nance,  with  a  defiant 
toss  of  her  head.  "  I  ain't  skeered  of  nothin'." 

But  that  night  when  Mrs.  Snawdor  and  Uncle  Jed 
had  gone  to  work,  and  Mr.  Snawdor  had  betaken 
himself  out  of  ear-shot  of  the  wailing  baby,  Nance's 
courage  began  to  waver.  After  she  had  finished  her 
work  and  crawled  into  bed  between  Fidy  and  Lo 
belia,  the  juvenile  court,  with  its  unknown  terrors, 
rose  before  her.  All  the  excitement  of  the  day  died 
out;  her  pride  in  sharing  the  punishment  with  Dan 
Lewis  vanished.  She  lay  staring  up  into  the  dark 
ness,  swallowing  valiantly  to  keep  down  the  sobs, 
fiercely  resolved  not  to  let  her  bed-fellows  witness 
the  break-down  of  her  courage. 

"  What 's  the  matter,  Nance  ?  "  asked  Fidy. 

"  I  'm  hot !  "  said  Nance;  crossly.  "  It  feels  like 
the  inside  of  a  oven  in  here!  " 

"  I  bet  Maw  forgot  to  open  the  window  into  the 
shaft,"  said  Fidy. 

"  Windows  don't  do  no  good,"  said  Nance ;  "  they 
just  let  in  smells.  Wisht  I  was  a  man!  You  bet 
I  would  be  up  at  Slap  Jack's !  I  'd  set  under  a 
'lectric  fan,  an'  pour  cold  things  down  me  an'  listen 
at  the  'phoney-graf  ever'  night.  Hush !  Is  that 
our  baby  ?  " 

A  faint  wail  made  her  scramble  out  of  bed  and 
rush  into  the  back  room  where  she  gathered  a  hot, 
squirming  bundle  into  her  arms  and  peered  anx 
iously  into  its  wizened  face.  She  knew  the  trick 


28  CALVARY  ALLEY 

babies  had  of  dying  when  the  weather  was  hot! 
Two  other  beloved  scraps  of  humanity  had  been 
taken  away  from  her,  and  she  was  fiercely  deter 
mined  to  keep  this  one.  Lugging  the  baby  to  the 
window,  she  scrambled  over  the  sill. 

The  fire-escape  was  cluttered  with  all  the  para 
phernalia  that  doubles  the  casualty  of  a  tenement 
fire,  but  she  cleared  a  space  with  her  foot  and  sat 
down  on  the  top  step.  Beside  her  loomed  the  blank 
warehouse  wall,  and  from  the  narrow  passage-way 
below  came  the  smell  of  garbage.  The  clanging  of 
cars  and  the  rumbling  of  trucks  mingled  with  the 
nearer  sounds  of  whirring  sewing  machines  in  La- 
vinski's  sweat-shop  on  the  floor  below.  From  some 
where  around  the  corner  came,  at  intervals,  the 
sharp  cry  of  a  woman  in  agony.  With  that  last 
sound  Nance  \vas  all  too  familiar.  The  coming 
and  going  of  a  human  life  were  no  mystery  to  her. 
But  each  time  the  cry  of  pain  rang  out  she  tried  in 
vain  to  stop  her  ears.  At  last,  hot,  hungry,  lone 
some,  and  afraid,  she  laid  her  dirty  face  against  the 
baby's  fuzzy  head  and  they  sobbed  together  in  un 
disturbed  misery. 

When  at  last  the  child  fell  into  a  restless  sleep, 
Nance  sat  patiently  on,  her  small  arms  stiffening 
under  their  burden,  and  her  bare  feet  and  legs  smart 
ing  from  the  stings  of  hungry  mosquitos. 

By  and  by  the  limp  garments  on  the  clothes  line 
overhead  began  to  stir,  and  Nance,  lifting  her  head 


'Her  tense  muscles  relaxed;  she  forgot  to  cry' 


THE  SNAWDORS  AT  HOME          29 

gratefully  to  the  vagrant  breeze,  caught  her  breath. 
There,  just  above  the  cathedral  spire,  white  and 
cool  among  fleecy  clouds,  rose  the  full  August  moon. 
It  was  the  same  moon  that  at  that  moment  was  turn 
ing  ocean  waves  into  silver  magic ;  that  was  smiling 
on  sleeping  forests  and  wind-swept  mountains  and 
dancing  streams.  Yet  here  it  was  actually  taking 
the  trouble  to  peep  around  the  cathedral  spire  and 
send  the  full  flood  of  its  radiance  into  the  most 
sordid  corners  of  Calvary  Alley,  even  into  the  un- 
a wakened,  soul  of  the  dirty,  ragged,  tear-stained 
little  girl  clasping  the  sick  baby  on  Snawdor's  fire- 
escape. 

Something  in  Nance  responded.  Her  tense  mus 
cles  relaxed;  she  forgot  to  cry.  With  eyes  grown 
big  and  wistful,  she  watched  the  shining  orb.  All 
the  bravado,  the  fear,  and  rebellion  died  out  of  her, 
and  in  hushed  wonder  she  got  from  the  great  white 
night  what  God  in  heaven  meant  for  us  to  get. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   CLARKES   AT    HOME 

WHILE  the  prodigal  son  of  the  house  of 
Clarke  was  engaged  in  breaking  stained- 
glass  windows  in  Calvary  Alley,  his  mother  was  at 
home  entertaining  the  bishop  with  a  recital  of  his 
virtues  and  accomplishments.  Considering  the  fact 
that  Bishop  Eland's  dislike  for  children  was  notori 
ous,  he  was  bearing  the  present  ordeal  with  unusual 
fortitude. 

They  were  sitting  on  the  spacious  piazza  at  Hill- 
crest,  the  country  home  of  the  Clarkes,  the  massive 
foundation  of  which  was  popularly  supposed  to  rest 
upon  bottles.  It  was  a  piazza  especially  designed  to 
offset  the  discomforts  of  a  Southern  August  after 
noon  and  to  make  a  visitor,  especially  if  he  happened 
to  be  an  ecclesiastical  potentate  with  a  taste  for  lux 
ury,  loath  to  forsake  its  pleasant  shade  for  the  glar 
ing  world  without. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  agreed  for  the  fourth  time,  "  a 
very  fine  boy.  I  must  say  I  give  myself  some  credit 
for  your  marriage  and  its  successful  result." 

Mrs.  Clarke  paused  in  her  tea-pouring  and  gazed 
absently  off  across  the  tree  tops. 

30 


THE  CLARKES  AT  HOME  31 

"  I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  happy,"  she  said,  and 
she  sighed. 

"  Every  heart  knoweth  its  own  —  two  lumps, 
thank  you,  and  a  dash  of  rum.  I  was  saying  — 
Oh,  yes!  I  was  about  to  remark  that  we  are  all 
prone  to  magnify  our  troubles.  Now  here  you  are, 
after  all  these  years,  still  brooding  over  your  unfor 
tunate  father,  when  he  is  probably  long  since  re 
turned  to  France,  quite  well  and  happy." 

"  If  I  could  only  be  sure.  It  has  been  so  long 
since  we  heard,  nearly  thirteen  years !  The  last  let 
ter  was  the  one  you  got  when  Mac  was  born." 

"  Yes,  and  I  answered  him  in  detail,  assuring  him 
of  your  complete  recovery,  and  expressing  my  hope 
that  he  would  never  again  burden  you  until  with 
God's  help  he  had  mastered  the  sin  that  had  been  his 
undoing." 

Mrs.  Clarke  shook  her  head  impatiently. 

'  You  and  Macpherson  never  understood  about 
father.  He  came  to  this  country  without  a  friend 
or  a  relation  except  mother  and  me.  Then  she  died, 
and  he  worked  day  and  night  to  keep  me  in  a  good 
boarding-school,  and  to  give  me  every  advantage 
that  a  girl  could  have.  Then  his  health  broke,  and 
he  could  n't  sleep,  and  he  began  taking  drugs.  Oh, 
I  don't  see  how  anybody  could  blame  him,  after  all 
he  had  been  through !  " 

"  For  whatever  sacrifices  he  made,  he  was  amply 
rewarded,"  the  bishop  said.  "  Few  fathers  have  the 


32  CALVARY  ALLEY 

satisfaction  of  seeing  their  daughters  more  success 
fully  established  in  life." 

"  Yes,  but  what  has  it  all  come  to  for  him  ?  Made 
to  feel  his  disgrace,  aware  of  Macpherson's  constant 
disapproval  —  I  don't  wonder  he  chose  to  give  me 
up  entirely." 

"  It  was  much  the  best  course  for  all  concerned," 
said  the  bishop,  with  the  assured  tone  of  one  who  en 
joys  the  full  confidence  of  Providence.  "  The  fact 
that  he  had  made  shipwreck  of  his  own  life  was  no 
reason  for  him  to  make  shipwreck  of  yours.  I  re 
member  saying  those  very  words  to  him  when  he 
told  me  of  Mr.  Clarke's  attitude.  Painful  as  was 
your  decision,  you  did  quite  right  in  yielding  to  our 
judgment  in  the  matter  and  letting  him  go." 

"  But  Macpherson  ought  not  to  have  asked  it  of 
me.  He  's  so  good  and  kind  and  good  about  most 
things,  that  I  don't  see  how  he  could  have  felt  the 
way  he  did  about  father." 

The  bishop  laid  a  consoling  hand  on  her  arm. 
'  Your  husband  was  but  protecting  you  and  him 
self  against  untold  annoyance.  Think  of  what  it 
would  have  meant  for  a  man  of  Mr.  Clarke's  posi 
tion  to  have  a  person  of  your  father's  habits  a  mem 
ber  of  his  household!  " 

"  But  father  was  perfectly  gentle  and  harmless  — 
more  like  an  afflicted  child  than  anything  else. 
When  he  was  without  an  engagement  he  would  go 


THE  CLARKES  AT  HOME  33 

for  weeks  at  a  time,  happy  with  his  books  and  his 
music,  without  breaking  over  at  all." 

"  Ah,  yes !  But  what  about  the  influence  of  his 
example  on  your  growing  son  ?  Imagine  the  humili 
ation  to  your  child." 

Mrs.  Clarke's  vulnerable  spot  was  touched. 

"  I  had  forgotten  Mac !  "  she  said.  "  He  must  be 
my  first  consideration,  must  n't  he  ?  I  never  intend 
for  him  to  bear  any  burden  that  I  can  bear  for  him. 
And  yet,  how  father  would  have  adored  him,  how 
proud  he  would  have  been  of  his  voice!  But  there, 
you  must  forgive  me  for  bringing  up  this  painful 
subject.  It  is  only  when  I  think  of  father  getting 
old  and  being  ill,  possibly  in  want,  with  nobody  in 
the  world  — " 

"  Now,  now,  my  dear  lady,"  said  the  bishop, 
"  you  are  indulging  in  morbid  fancies.  Your  father 
knows  that  with  a  stroke  of  the  pen  he  can  procure 
all  the  financial  assistance  from  you  he  may  desire. 
As  to  his  being  unhappy,  I  doubt  it  extremely.  My 
recollection  of  him  is  of  a  very  placid,  amiable  man, 
living  more  in  his  dreams  than  in  reality." 

Mrs.  Clarke  smiled  through  her  tears. 

"  You  are  quite  right.  He  did  n't  ask  much  of 
life.  A  book  in  his  hand  and  a  child  on  his  knee 
meant  happiness  for  him." 

"  And  those  he  can  have  wherever  he  is,"  said 
her  spiritual  adviser.  "  Now  I  want  you  to  turn 


34  CALVARY  ALLEY 

away  from  all  these  gloomy  forebodings  and  leave 
the  matter  entirely  in  God's  hands." 

"  And  you  think  I  have  done  iny  duty?  " 

"  Assuredly.  It  is  your  poor  father  who  has 
failed  to  do  his.  You  are  a  model  wife  and  an  al 
most  too  devoted  mother.  You  are  zealous  in  your 
work  at  the  cathedral;  you — " 

"There!"  said  Mrs.  Clarke,  smiling,  "I  know 
I  don't  deserve  all  those  compliments,  but  they  do 
help  me.  Now  let 's  talk  of  something  else  while 
I  give  you  a  fresh  cup  of  tea.  Tell  me  what  the 
board  did  yesterday  about  the  foreign  mission  fund." 

The  bishop,  relieved  to  see  the  conversation 
drifting  into  calmer  waters,  accepted  the  second  cup 
and  the  change  of  topic  with  equal  satisfaction. 
His  specialty  was  ministering  to  the  sorrows  of  the 
very  rich,  but  he  preferred  to  confine  his  spiritual 
visits  to  the  early  part  of  the  afternoon,  leaving  the 
latter  part  free  for  tea-drinking  and  the  ecclesiastical 
gossip  so  dear  to  his  heart. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  leaning  back  luxuriously  in  his 
deep  willow  chair,  "  we  carried  our  point  after  some 
difficulty.  Too  many  of  our  good  directors  take 
refuge  in  the  old  excuse  that  charity  should  begin  at 
home.  It  should,  my  dear  Elise,  but  as  I  have  said 
before,  it  should  not  end  there!  " 

Having  delivered  himself  of  this  original  observa 
tion,  the  bishop  helped  himself  to  another  sandwich. 

"  The  special  object  of  my  present  visit,"  he  said, 


THE  CLARKES  AT  HOME  35 

"  aside  from  the  pleasure  it  always  gives  me  to  be  in 
your  delightful  home,  is  to  interest  you  and  your 
good  husband  in  a  mission  we  are  starting  in 
Mukden,  a  most  ungodly  place,  I  fear,  in  Manchuria. 
A  thousand  dollars  from  Mr.  Clarke  at  this  time 
would  be  most  acceptable,  and  I  shall  leave  it  to  you, 
my  dear  lady,  to  put  the  matter  before  him,  with  all 
the  tact  and  persuasion  for  which  you  are  so  justly 
noted." 

Mrs.  Clarke  smiled  wearily. 

"  I  will  -do  what  I  can,  Bishop.  But  I  hate  to 
burden  him  with  one  more  demand.  Since  he  has 
bought  these  two  new  factories,  he  is  simply  worked 
to  death.  I  get  so  cross  with  all  the  unreasonable 
demands  the  employees  make  on  him.  They  are 
never  satisfied.  The  more  he  yields,  the  more  they 
demand.  It 's  begging  letters,  petitions,  lawsuits, 
strikes,  until  he  is  driven  almost  crazy." 

The  whirr  of  an  approaching  motor  caused  them 
both  to  look  up.  A  grizzled  man  of  fifty  got  out 
and,  after  a  decisive  order  to  the  chauffeur,  turned 
to  join  them.  His  movements  were  quick  and  nerv 
ous,  and  his  eyes  restless  under  their  shaggy  gray 
brows. 

"  Where  's  the  boy?  "  was  his  first  query  after  the 
greetings  were  over. 

"  He  went  to  choir  practice.  I  thought  surely  he 
would  come  out  with  you.  Had  n't  we  better  send 
the  machine  back  for  him?  " 


36  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"We  were  just  speaking  of  that  fine  lad  of 
yours,"  said  the  bishop,  helping  himself  to  yet  an 
other  sandwich.  "  Fine  eyes,  frank,  engaging  man 
ner!  I  suppose  he  is  too  young  yet  for  you  to  be 
considering  his  future  calling?  " 

"Indeed  he  isn't!"  said  Mrs.  Clarke.  "My 
heart  is  set  on  the  law.  Two  of  his  Clarke  grand 
fathers  have  been  on  the  bench." 

Mr.  Clarke  smiled  somewhat  grimly. 

"  Mac  has  n't  evinced  any  burning  ambition  in  any 
direction  as  yet." 

"  Mac  is  only  thirteen,"  said  Mrs.  Clarke  with 
dignity ;  "  all  of  his  teachers  will  tell  you  that  he 
is  wonderfully  bright,  but  that  he  lacks  application. 
I  think  it  is  entirely  their  fault.  They  don't  make 
the  lessons  sufficiently  interesting;  they  don't  hold 
his  attention.  He  has  been  at  three  private  schools, 
and  they  were  all  wretched.  You  know  I  am  think 
ing  of  trying  a  tutor  this  year."  , 

"  I  want  her  to  send  him  to  the  public  schools," 
Mr.  Clarke  said  with  the  air  of  detached  paternity 
peculiar  to  American  fathers.  "  I  went  to  the  pub 
lic  schools.  They  gave  me  a  decent  start  in  life; 
that 's  about  all  you  can  expect  of  a  school." 

"  True,  true,"  said  the  bishop,  his  elbows  on  the 
arms  of  his  chair,  and  his  fingers  tapping  each  other 
meditatively.  "  I  am  the  last  person  to  minimize  the 
value  of  the  public  schools,  but  they  were  primarily 
designed,  Mr.  Clarke,  neither  for  your  boy,  nor 


THE  CLARKES  AT  HOME  37 

mine.  Their  rules  and  regulations  were  designed 
expressly  for  the  children  of  the  poor.  I  was 
speaking  on  this  subject  only  yesterday  to  Mrs.  Con- 
ningsby  Lee.  She 's  very  indignant  because  her 
child  was  forced  to  submit  to  vaccination  at  the 
hands  of  some  unknown  young  physician  appointed 
by  the  city. 

"  I  should  feel  like  killing  any  one  who  vaccinated 
Mac  without  my  consent!  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Clarke, 
"'  but  I  need  n't  worry.  He  would  n't  allow  it.  Do 
you  know  we  have  never  been  able  to  persuade  that 
child  to  be  vaccinated  ?  " 

"  And  you  don't  propose  for  the  State  to  do  what 
you  can't  do,  do  you?"  Mr.  Clarke  said,  pinching 
her  cheek. 

"  What  Mrs.  Clarke  says  is  not  without  weight," 
said  the  bishop,  gallantly  coming  to  her  rescue. 
"  There  are  few  things  upon  which  I  wax  more  in 
dignant  than  the  increasing  interference  of  the  State 
with  the  home.  This  hysterical  agitation  against 
child  labor,  for  instance;  while  warranted  in  excep 
tional  cases,  it  is  in  the  main  destructive  of  the  for 
mation  of  the  habit  of  industry  which  cannot  be  ac 
quired  too  young.  When  the  State  presumes  to 
teach  a  mother  how  to  feed  her  child,  when  and 
where  to  educate  it,  when  and  where  to  send  it  to 
work,  the  State  goes  too  far.  There  is  nothing 
more  dangerous  to  the  family  than  the  present  pa 
ternalistic  and  pauperizing  trend  of  legislation." 


38  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  I  wish  you  would  preach  that  to  the  factory  in 
spectors,"  said  Mr.  Clarke,  with  a  wry  smile. 
"  Between  the  poor  mothers  who  are  constantly  try 
ing  to  get  the  children  into  the  factory,  and  the 
inspectors  who  are  trying  to  keep  them  out,  I  have 
my  hands  full." 

"  A  mother's  love,"  said  the  bishop,  who  evidently 
had  different  rules  for  mothers  and  fathers,  "  a 
mother's  intuition  is  the  most  unerring  guide  for  the 
conduct  of  her  child ;  and  the  home,  however  humble, 
is  its  safest  refuge." 

Mrs.  Clarke  glanced  anxiously  down  the  poplar- 
bordered  driveway.  Her  mother's  intuition  sug 
gested  that  as  it  was  now  five-thirty,  Mac  must  have 
been  engaged  in  some  more  diverting  pastime  than 
praising  the  Lord  with  psalms  and  thanksgiving. 

"  Your  theory  then,  Bishop,"  said  Mr.  Clarke, 
who  was  evincing  an  unusual  interest  in  the  subject, 
"  carried  to  its  legitimate  conclusion,  would  do  away 
with  all  state  interference?  No  compulsory  educa 
tion  or  child-labor  laws,  or  houses  of  correc 
tion?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  the  bishop  means  that  at  all !  " 
said  Mrs.  Clarke.  "  But  he  is  perfectly  right  about 
a  mother  knowing  what  is  best  for  her  child.  Take 
Mac,  for  instance.  Nobody  has  ever  understood 
him,  but  me.  What  other  people  call  wil fulness  is 
really  sensitiveness.  He  can't  bear  to  be  criticized, 
he—" 


THE  CLARKES  AT  HOME  39 

The  sudden  appearance  of  a  limping  object  skirt 
ing  the  bushes  caused  her  to  break  off  abruptly. 

"  Who  on  earth  is  that  over  there  beyond  the 
fountain  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Why,  upon  my  word, 
it 's  Mac !  —  Mac !  "  she  called  anxiously.  "  Come 
here!" 

The  boy  shamefacedly  retraced  his  steps  and  pre 
sented  himself  on  the  piazza.  His  shoes  and  stock 
ings  were  covered  with  mud ;  the  frills  on  his  shirt 
were  torn  and  dirty ;  one  eye  was  closed. 

"  \Vhy,  my  darling  child !  "  cried  his  mother,  her 
listless,  detached  air  giving  place  to  one  of  acute  con 
cern,  "  you  've  been  in  an  accident !  " 

She  had  flown  to  him  and  enveloped  him,  mud 
and  all,  in  her  gauzy  embrace  —  an  embrace  from 
which  Mac  struggled  to  escape. 

"  I  'm  all  right,"  he  insisted  impatiently.  "  Those 
kids  back  of  the  cathedral  got  to  bothering  us,  and 
we—" 

"  You  mean  those  rowdies  in  the  alley  of  whom 
Mason  is  always  complaining  ? "  demanded  the 
bishop,  sternly. 

'  Yes,  sir.     They  were  throwing  rocks  and  step 
ping  on  the  new  walk  — " 

"  And  you  were  helping  the  janitor  keep  them 
out?"  broke  in  Mrs.  Clarke.  "Isn't  it  an  out 
rage,  Bishop,  that  these  children  can't  go  to  their 
choir  practice  without  being  attacked  by  those  dread 
ful  ruffians?" 


40  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  You  are  quite  sure  you  boys  were  n't  to  blame  ?  " 
asked  Mr.  Clarke. 

"Now,  Father!"  protested  his  wife,  "how  can 
you?  When  Mac  has  just  told  us  he  was  helping 
the  janitor?  " 

"  It  is  no  new  thing,  Mr.  Clarke,"  said  the  bishop, 
solemnly  shaking  his  head.  "  We  have  had  to  con 
tend  with  that  disreputable  element  back  of  us  for 
years.  On  two  occasions  I  have  had  to  complain  to 
the  city  authorities.  A  very  bad  neighborhood,  I 
am  told,  very  bad  indeed." 

"  But,  Mac  dearest,"  pursued  his  mother  anx 
iously  as  she  tried  to  brush  the  dried  mud  out  of  his 
hair.  "  Were  you  the  only  boy  who  stayed  to  help 
Mason  keep  them  out  ?  " 

Mac  jerked  his  head  away  irritably. 

"Oh!  It  wasn't  that  way,  Mother.  You 
see—" 

"  That 's  Mac  all  over,"  cried  Mrs.  Clarke.  "  He 
would  n't  claim  any  credit  for  the  world.  But  look 
at  the  poor  child's  hands!  Look  at  his  eye!  We 
must  take  some  action  at  once.  Can't  we  swear  out 
a  warrant  or  something  against  those  hoodlums,  and 
have  them  locked  up?" 

"  But,  Elise,"  suggested  Mr.  Clarke,  quizzically, 
"  have  n't  you  and  the  bishop  just  been  arguing  that 
the  State  ought  not  to  interfere  with  a  child  ?  That 
the  family  ties,  the  mother's  guidance  — " 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Clarke,"  interrupted  the  bishop, 


THE  CLARKES  AT  HOME  41 

"  this,  I  assure  you,  is  an  exceptional  case.  These 
young  desperados  are  destroying  property ;  they  are 
lawbreakers,  many  of  them  doubtless,  incipient  crim 
inals.  Mrs.  Clarke  is  quite  right ;  some  action  must 
be  taken,  has  probably  been  taken  already.  The 
janitor  had  instructions  to  swear  out  a  warrant 
against  the  next  offender  who  in  any  way  defaced 
the  property  belonging  to  the  cathedral." 

It  was  at  this  critical  point  that  the  telephone 
rang,  and  a  maid  appeared  to  say  that  Mr.  Clarke 
was  wanted.  The  bishop  took  advantage  of  the  in 
terruption  to  order  his  carriage  and  make  his 
adieus. 

"  You  may  be  assured,"  he  said  at  parting,  "  that 
I  shall  not  allow  this  matter  to  rest  until  the  offend 
ers  are  brought  to  justice.  Good-by,  good-by,  my 
little  man.  Bear  in  mind,  my  dear  Elise,  that 
Mukden  matter.  Good-by." 

"  And  now,  you  poor  darling !  "  said  Mrs.  Clarke 
in  a  relieved  tone,  as  she  turned  her  undivided  at 
tention  on  her  abused  son,  "  you  shall  have  a  nice  hot 
bath  and  a  compress  on  the  poor  eye,  and  whatever 
you  want  for  your  dinner.  You  are  as  white  as  a 
sheet,  and  still  trembling !  You  poor  lamb !  " 

Mr.  Clarke  met  them  at  the  drawing-room 
door: 

"  Mac ! "  he  demanded,  and  his  face  was  stern, 
"  did  you  have  anything  to  do  with  the  breaking  of 
the  big  window  at  the  cathedral  ?  " 


42  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  No,  sir,"  Mac  faltered,  kicking  at  the  newel 
post. 

"  You  did  n't  even  know  it  was  broken  ?  " 
"  Oh,  everybody  was  throwing  rocks,  and,,  that 
old,  crazy  Mason  — " 

"  But  I  thought  you  were  helping  Mason?  " 
"  I  was  —  that  is  —  those  alley  micks  — " 
"  That  will  do !  "  his  father  said  angrily.     "  I  've 
just  been  notified  to  have  you  at  the  juvenile  court 
next  Friday  to  answer  a  charge  of  destroying  prop 
erty.     This  is  a  nice  scrape  for  my  son  to  get  into ! 
And  you  did  n't  have  the  grit  to  tell  the  truth.     You 
lied  to  me !     You  '11  go  to  bed,  sir,  without  your  din 
ner!" 

Mrs.  Clarke's  eyes  were  round  with  indignation, 
and  she  was  on  the  point  of  bursting  into  passionate 
protest  when  a  warning  glance  from  her  husband 
silenced  her.  With  a  sense  of  outraged  maternity 
she  flung  a  protective  arm  about  her  son  and  swept 
him  up  the  stairs. 

"  Don't  make  a  scene,  Mac  darling !  "  she  whis 
pered.  "  Mother  knows  you  did  n't  do  it.  You 
go  up  to  bed  like  a  little  gentleman,  and  I  '11  slip  a 
tray  up  to  you  and  come  up  myself  the  minute  dinner 
is  over." 

That  night  when  the  moon  discovered  Nance 
Molloy  in  Calvary  Alley,  it  also  peeped  through  the 
window  at  Mac  Clarke  out  at  Hillcrest.  Bathed, 
combed,  and  comforted,  he  lay  in  a  silk-draped  bed 


THE  CLARKES  AT  HOME  43 

while  his  mother  sat  beside  him  fanning  him.  It 
would  be  pleasant  to  record  that  the  prodigal  had 
confessed  his  sins  and  been  forgiven.  It  would  even 
be  some  comfort  to  state  that  his  guilty  conscience 
was  keeping  him  awake.  Neither  of  these  facts, 
however,  was  true.  Mac,  lying  on  his  back,  watch 
ing  the  square  patch  of  moonlight  on  the  floor,  was 
planning  darkest  deeds  of  vengeance  on  a  certain 
dirty,  tow-headed,  bare-legged  little  girl,  who  had 
twice  got  the  better  of  him  in  the  conflict  of  the 
day. 


CHAPTER  IV 

JUVENILE   COURT 

THE  goddess  of  justice  is  popularly  supposed  to 
bandage  her  eyes  in  order  to  maintain  an 
impartial  attitude,  but  it  is  quite  possible  that  she 
does  it  to  keep  from  seeing  the  dreary  court-rooms 
which  are  supposed  to  be  her  abiding  place. 

On  the  hot  Friday  morning  following  the  fight, 
the  big  anteroom  to  the  juvenile  court,  which  was 
formerly  used  for  the  police  court,  was  just  as  dirty 
and  the  air  just  as  stale  as  in  mid-winter,  when  the 
windows  were  down  and  the  furnace  going. 

Scrub  women  came  at  dawn,  to  be  sure,  and 
smeared  its  floors  with  sour  mops,  and  occasionally 
a  janitor  brushed  the  cobwebs  off  the  ceiling,  but 
the  grime  was  more  than  surface  deep,  and  every 
nook  and  cranny  held  the  foul  odor  of  the  unwashed, 
unkempt  current  of  humanity  that  for  so  many  years 
had  flowed  through  it.  Ghosts  of  dead  and  gone 
criminals  seemed  to  hover  over  the  place,  drawn 
back  through  curiosity,  to  relive  their  own  sorry 
experiences  in  the  cases  of  the  young  offenders  wait 
ing  before  the  bar  of  justice. 

On  the  bench  at  the  rear  of  the  room  the  delega- 


JUVENILE  COURT  45 

tion  from  Calvary  Alley  had  been  waiting  for  over 
an  hour.  Mrs.  Snawdor,  despite  her  forebodings, 
had  achieved  a  costume  worthy  of  the  occasion,  but 
Uncle  Jed  and  Dan  had  made  no  pretense  at  a 
toilet.  As  for  Nance,  she  had  washed  her  face  as 
far  east  and  west  as  her  ears  and  as  far  south  as  her 
chin;  but  the  regions  beyond  were  unreclaimed. 
The  shoe-string  on  her  hair  had  been  replaced  by  a 
magenta  ribbon,  but  the  thick  braids  had  not  been 
disturbed.  Now  that  she  had  got  over  her  fright, 
she  was  rather  enjoying  the  novelty  and  excitement 
of  the  affair.  She  had  broken  the  law  and  enjoyed 
breaking  it,  and  the  cop  had  pinched  her.  It  was  a 
game  between  her  and  the  cop,  and  the  cop  had  won. 
She  saw  no  reason  whatever  for  Uncle  Jed  and  Dan 
to  look  so  solemn. 

By  and  by  a  woman  in  spectacles  took  her  into  a 
small  room  across  the  hall,  and  told  her  to  sit  on  the 
other  side  of  the  table  and  not  to  shuffle  her  feet. 
Nance  explained  about  the  mosquito  bites,  but  the 
lady  did  not  listen. 

"What  day  is  this?"  asked  the  spectacled  one, 
preparing  to  chronicle  the  answers  in  a  big  book. 

"  Friday,"  said  Nance,  surprised  that  she  could 
furnish  information  to  so  wise  a  person. 

"What  day  of  the  month?" 

"  Day  before  rent  day." 

The  corner  of  the  lady's  mouth  twitched,  and 
Nance  glanced  at  her  suspiciously. 


46  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  Can  you  repeat  these  numbers  after  me?  Four, 
seven,  nine,  three,  ten,  six,  fourteen." 

Nance  was  convinced  now  that  the  lady  was 
crazy,  but  she  rattled  them  off  glibly. 

"Very  good!  Now  if  the  little  hand  of  your 
clock  was  at  twelve,  and  the  big  hand  at  three,  what 
time  would  it  be?  " 

Nance  pondered  the  matter  deeply. 

"  Five  after  twelve!  "  she  answered  triumphantly. 

"  No;  try  again." 

Nance  was  eager  to  oblige,  but  she  had  the  cour 
age  of  her  convictions  and  held  her  point. 

"  Would  n't  it  be  a  quarter  past?  "  suggested  the 
examiner. 

"  No,  ma'am,  it  wouldn't.  Our  clock  runs  ten 
minutes  slow." 

The  grave  face  behind  the  spectacles  broke  into  a 
smile;  then  business  was  resumed. 

"  Shut  your  eyes  and  name  as  many  objects  as  you 
can  without  stopping,  like  this :  trees,  flowers,  birds. 
Go  ahead." 

"  Trees,  flowers,  birds,  cats,  dogs,  fight,  barrel, 
slop,  mud,  ashes." 

"  Go  on,  quicker  —  keep  it  up.  Nuts,  raisins, 
cake  — " 

"  Cake,  stove,  smoke,  tub,  wash-board,  scrub,  rag, 
tub,  stove,  ashes." 

"Keep  it  up!" 

"  I  dunno  no  more." 


JUVENILE  COURT  47 

"  We  can't  get  beyond  ashes,  eh  ?  "  said  the  lady. 
"  Now  suppose  you  tell  me  what  the  following  words 
mean.  Charity?" 

"  Is  it  a  organization? "  asked  Nance  doubtfully. 

"Justice?" 

"  I  dunno  that  one." 

"  Do  you  know  what  God  is  ?  " 

Nance  felt  that  she  was  doing  badly.  If  her  free 
dom  depended  on  her  passing  this  test,  she  knew  the 
prison  bars  must  be  already  closing  on  her.  She  no 
more  knew  what  God  is  than  you  or  I  know,  but  the 
spectacled  lady  must  be  answered  at  any  cost. 

"  God,"  she  said  laboriously,  "  God  is  what  made 
us,  and  a  cuss  word." 

Many  more  questions  followed  before  she  was 
sent  back  to  her  place  between  Uncle  Jed  and  Mrs. 
Snawdor,  and  Dan  was  led  away  in  turn  to  receive 
his  test. 

Meanwhile  Uncle  Jed  was  getting  restless. 
Again  and  again  he  consulted  his  large  nickel-plated 
watch. 

"  I  ought  to  be  getting  to  bed,"  he  complained. 
"  I  won't  get  more  'n  four  hours'  sleep  as  it  is." 

"  Here  comes  the  Clarke  boy!  "  exclaimed  Nance, 
and  all  eyes  were  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  door. 

The  group  that  presented  itself  at  the  entrance 
was  in  sharp  contrast  to  its  surroundings.  Mac 
Clarke,  arrayed  in  immaculate  white,  was  flanked 
on  one  side  by  his  distinguished-looking  father  and 


48  CALVARY  ALLEY 

on  the  other  by  his  father's  distinguished-looking 
lawyer.  The  only  evidence  that  the  aristocratic 
youth  had  ever  come  into  contact  with  the  riffraff  of 
Calvary  Alley  was  the  small  patch  of  court-plaster 
above  his  right  eye. 

"  Tell  the  judge  we  are  here,"  said  Mr.  Clarke 
briskly  to  his  lawyer.  "  Ask  him  to  get  through 
with  us  as  soon  as  possible.  I  have  an  appointment 
at  twelve-thirty." 

The  lawyer  made  his  way  up  the  aisle  and  dis 
appeared  through  the  door  which  all  the  morning 
had  been  swallowing  one  small  offender  after  an 
other. 

Almost  immediately  a  loud  voice  called  from  the 
platform: 

"  Case  of  Mac  Clarke !  Nance  Molloy !  Dan 
Lewis!"  And  Nance  with  a  sudden  leap  of  her 
heart,  knew  that  her  time  had  come. 

In  the  inner  room,  where  the  juvenile  cases  had  a 
private  hearing,  the  judge  sat  at  a  big  desk,  scanning 
several  pages  of  type-written  paper.  He  was  a 
young  judge  with  a  keen,  though  somewhat  weary, 
face  and  eyes,  full  of  compassionate  knowledge. 
But  Nance  did  not  see  the  judge;  her  gaze  was  riv 
eted  upon  her  two  arch  enemies :  Mason,  with  his 
flat  nose  and  pugnacious  jaw,  and  "  Old  Cock-eye," 
the  policeman  who  looked  strangely  unfamiliar  with 
his  helmet  off. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Mason,"  said  the  judge  when  the 


JUVENILE  COURT  49 

three  small  offenders  had  been  ranged  in  front  of 
the  desk,  with  the  witnesses  grouped  behind  them, 
"  I'  11  ask  you  to  tell  me  just  what  took  place  last 
Saturday  afternoon  at  the  cathedral." 

Mason  cleared  his  throat  and,  with  evident  satis 
faction,  proceeded  to  set  forth  his  version  of  the 
story : 

"  I  was  sweeping  out  the  vestibule,  your  Honor, 
when  I  heard  a  lot  of  yelling  and  knew  that  a  fight 
was  on.  It 's  that  away  every  Saturday  afternoon 
that  I  ain't  on  the  spot  to  stop  it.  I  run  down 
through  the  cathedral  and  out  to  the  back  gate.  The 
alley  was  swarming  with  a  mob  of  fighting,  yelling 
children.  Then  I  see  these  two  boys  a-fighting  each 
other  up  at  the  end  of  the  alley,  and  before  I  can  get 
to  'em,  this  here  little  girl  flings  herself  between  'em, 
and  the  big  boy  picks  up  a  rock  and  heaves  it  straight 
th'u  the  cathedral  window." 

"  Well,  Mac,"  said  the  judge,  turning  to  the  trim, 
white-clad  figure  confronting  him  —  a  figure 
strangely  different  from  the  type  that  usually  stood 
there.  "  You  have  heard  what  the  janitor  charges 
you  with.  Are  you  guilty?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Mac. 

'  The  breaking  of  the  window  was  an  accident  ?  " 

Mac  glanced  quickly  at  his  father's  lawyer,  then 
back  at  the  judge. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  But  you  were  fighting  in  the  alley  ?  " 


50  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  I  was  keeping  the  alley  boys  out  of  the  cathedral 
yard." 

"  That 's  a  lie !  "  came  in  shrill,  indignant  tones 
from  the  little  girl  at  his  elbow. 

"  There  seems  to  be  some  difference  of  opinion 
here,"  said  the  judge,  putting  his  hand  over  his 
mouth  to  repress  a  smile  at  the  vehemence  of  the 
accusation.  "  Suppose  we  let  this  young  lady  give 
her  version  of  it." 

Nance  jerking  her  arm  free  from  Mrs.  Snaw- 
dor's  restraining  hand,  plunged  breathlessly  into  her 
story. 

"  He  was  settin'  on  the  fence,  along  with  a  parcel 
of  other  guys,  a-makin'  faces  an'  callin'  names  long 
afore  we  even  took  no  notice  of  'em." 

"  Both  sides  is  to  blame,  your  Honor,"  interposed 
Mason,  "  there  ain't  a  day  when  the  choir  rehearses 
that  I  don't  have  to  go  out  and  stop  'em  fighting." 

"Well,  in  this  case  who  started  the  trouble?" 
asked  the  judge. 

Mrs.  Snawdor  clutched  at  Nance,  but  it  was  too 
late. 

"  I  did,"  she  announced. 

The  judge  looked  puzzled. 

"  Why,  I  thought  you  said  the  choir  boys  began  it 
by  sitting  on  the  fence  and  making  faces  and  calling 
names." 

"  Shucks,"  said  Nance,  contemptuously,  "  we  kin 
beat  'em  makin'  faces  an'  callin'  names." 


JUVENILE  COURT  51 

"  Well,  how  did  you  start  the  fight  ?  " 

"  That  there  big  boy  dared  me  to  step  in  the  con 
crete.  Didn't  you  now?" 

Mac  stood  looking  straight  ahead  of  him  and  re 
fused  to  acknowledge  her  presence. 

"  It  strikes  me,"  said  the  judge,  "  that  you  choir 
boys  could  be  better  employed  than  in  teasing  and 
provoking  the  children  in  the  alley.  What  do  you 
think,  Mac?" 

Mac  had  been  provided  with  no  answer  to  this 
question,  so  he  offered  none. 

"  Unfortunately,"  the  judge  continued,  "  it  is  the 
fathers  of  boys  like  you  who  have  to  take  the  pun 
ishment.  Your  father  will  have  to  pay  for  the  win 
dow.  But  I  want  to  appeal  to  your  common  sense 
and  your  sense  of  justice.  Look  at  me,  Mac.  You 
have  had  advantages  and  opportunities  beyond  most 
boys.  You  are  older  than  these  children.  Don't 
you  think,  instead  of  using  your  influence  to  stir  up 
trouble  and  put  us  to  this  annoyance  and  expense, 
it  would  be  much  better  for  you  to  keep  on  your  side 
of  the  fence  and  leave  these  people  back  of  the  cathe 
dral  alone?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Mac,  perfunctorily. 

"  And  you  promise  me  to  do  this  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  We  will  give  you  a  chance  to  make  your  promise 
good.  But  remember  your  name  is  on  our  record; 
if  there  is  any  more  trouble  whatever,  you  will  hear 


52  CALVARY  ALLEY 

from  us.  Mr.  Clarke,  I  look  to  you  to  see  that  your 
son  behaves  himself.  You  may  step  aside  please. 
And  now,  boy,  what  is  your  name?  " 

"  Dan  Lewis." 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  think  we  have  met  before.  What 
have  you  to  say  for  yourself?  " 

The  shoeless,  capless,  unwashed  boy,  with  his 
ragged  trousers  hitched  to  his  shoulders  by  one  sus 
pender,  frowned  up  at  the  judge  through  a  fringe 
of  tumbled  hair. 

"  Nothin',"  he  said  doggedly. 

"Where  do  you  live?" 

"  I  live  at  home  when  me  maw  's  there." 

"  Where  is  she  now?  " 

This  question  caused  considerable  nudging  and 
side-glancing  on  the  part  of  Airs.  Snawdor. 

"  She  's  went  to  the  country,"  said  Dan. 

"  Is  your  father  living?  " 

"  I  dunno." 

"  Did  you  go  to  school  last  year?  " 

"  No." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Did  n't  have  no  shoes." 

"Does  your  mother  work?" 

This  question  brought  more  nudges  and  glances 
from  Mrs.  Snawdor,  none  of  which  were  lost  on 
the  boy. 

"  Me  mother  don't  have  to  work,"  he  said  defi 
antly.  "  She  's  a  lady." 


JUVENILE  COURT  53 

The  judge  cleared  his  throat  and  called  Mrs. 
Snawdor  sharply  to  order. 

"  Well,  Dan,"  he  said,  "  I  am  sorry  to  see  you 
back  here  again.  What  were  you  up  for  before  ?  " 

"  Chuckin'  dice." 

"  And  did  n't  I  tell  you  that  it  would  go  hard  with 
you  if  you  came  back?  " 

'  Yes,  sir,  but  I  never  chucked  no  more  dice." 

"  And  I  suppose  in  spite  of  the  way  your  mouth 
is  bruised,  you  '11  tell  me  you  were  n't  mixed  up  in 
this  fight>" 

The  boy  stood  staring  miserably  at  the  wall  with 
eyes  in  which  fear  and  hurt  pride  struggled  for  mas 
tery. 

"  Yer  Honor !  "  the  policeman  broke  in.  "  It 's 
three  times  lately  I  've  found  him  sleepin'  in  door 
ways  after  midnight.  Him  and  the  gang  is  a  bad 
lot,  yer  Honor,  a  scrappin'  an'  hoppin'  freights  an' 
swipin'  junk,  an'  one  thing  an'  another." 

"  I  never  swiped  no  junk,"  Dan  said  hopelessly, 
"  I  never  swiped  nothink  in  my  life." 

"  Is  there  no  definite  charge  against  this  boy  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Mason,  "  he  is  always  a-climbin' 
up  the  steeple  of  the  cathedral." 

Dan,  sullen,  frightened,  and  utterly  unable  to  de 
fend  himself,  looked  from  the  officer  to  the  janitor 
with  the  wide,  distrustful  eyes  of  a  cornered  coyote. 

Suddenly  a  voice  spoke  out  in  his  behalf,  a  shrill, 
protesting,  passionate  voice. 


54  CALVARY  ALLEY 

'He  ain't  no  worser  nor  nobody  else!  Ast 
Mammy,  ast  Uncle  Jed !  He  's  got  to  sleep  some- 
wheres  when  his  maw  fergits  to  come  home! 
Ever'body  goes  an'  picks  on  Danny  'cause  he  ain't 
got  nobody  to  take  up  fer  him.  'T  ain't  fair!" 
Nance  ended  her  tirade  in  a  burst  of  tears. 

"  There,  there,"  said  the  judge,  "  it 's  going  to  be 
fair  this  time.  You  stop  crying  now  and  tell  me 
your  name?  " 

"  Nance  Molloy,"  she  gulped,  wiping  her  eyes  on 
her  sleeve. 

"How  old  are  you?" 

"  'Leven,  goin'  on  twelve." 

"  Well,  take  that  gum  out  of  your  mouth  and  stop 
crying. 

He  consulted  his  papers  and  then  looked  at  her 
over  his  glasses. 

"  Nancy,"  he  said,  "  are  you  in  the  habit  of  slip 
ping  into  the  cathedral  when  the  janitor  is  not 
around  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"What  for?" 

"  Lookin'  at  the  pretties,  an'  seein*  if  there  's  any 
nickels  under  the  seats." 

"  You  want  to  buy  candy,  I  suppose?  " 

"  No,  sir,  a  bureau." 

Even  the  tired-looking  probation  officer  looked  up 
and  smiled. 


JUVENILE  COURT  55 

"  What  does  a  little  girl  like  you  want  with  a  bu 
reau?  "  asked  the  judge. 

"  So  's  I  won't  have  to  keep  me  duds  under  the 
bed." 

"  That 's  a  commendable  ambition.  But  what 
about  these  other  charges;  truancy  from  school, 
fighting  with  the  boys,  throwing  mud,  and  so  on  ?  " 

"  I  never  th'ow  mud,  'ceptin'  when  I  'm  th'owin' 
back,"  explained  Nance. 

"  A  nice  distinction,"  said  the  judge.  "  Is  this 
child's  mother  present?" 

Mrs.  Snawdor,  like  a  current  that  has  been  re 
strained  too  long,  surged  eagerly  forward,  and  over 
flowed  her  conversational  banks  completely. 

"  Well,  I  ain't  exactly  her  mother,  but  I  'm  just 
the  same  as  her  mother.  You  ast  anybody  in  Cal 
vary  Alley.  Ast  Mr.  Burks  here,  ast  Mrs.  Smelts 
what  I  been  to  her  ever  since  she  was  a  helpless 
infant  baby.  When  Bud  Molloy  lay  dyin'  he  says  to 
the  brakeman,  '  You  tell  my  wife  to  be  good  to 
Nance.'  " 

"  So  she  's  your  stepchild?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  an'  Bud  Molloy  was  as  clever  a  man 
as  ever  trod  shoe-leather.  So  was  Mr.  Yager. 
Nobody  can't  say  I  ever  had  no  trouble  with  my  two 
first.  They  was  n't  what  you  might  call  as  smart 
a  man  as  Snawdor,  but  they  was  n't  no  fool." 

It  was  a  peculiarity  of  Mrs.  Snawdor's  that  she 


56  CALVARY  ALLEY 

always  spoke  of  her  previous  husbands  as  one,  not 
withstanding  the  fact  that  the  virtues  which  she 
attributed  to  them  could  easily  have  been  distributed 
among  half  a  dozen. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  judge  impatiently,  "  what 
have  you  to  say  about  the  character  of  this  little 
girl?" 

Mrs.  Snawdor  shifted  her  last  husband's  hat  from 
the  right  side  of  her  head  to  the  left,  and  began  con 
fidentially  : 

"  Well  I  '11  tell  you,  Jedge,  Nance  ain't  so  bad  as 
whut  they  make  her  out.  She  's  got  her  faults.  I 
ain't  claimin'  she  ain't.  But  she  ain't  got  a  drop  of 
meanness  in  her,  an'  that 's  more  than  I  can  say  for 
some  grown  folks  present."  Mrs.  Snawdor  favored 
Mr.  Mason  with  such  a  sudden  and  blighting  glance 
that  the  janitor  quailed  visibly. 

"  Do  you  have  trouble  controlling  her?  "  asked  the 
judge. 

"  Nothin'  to  speak  of.  She 's  a  awful  good 
worker,  Nance  is,  when  you  git  her  down  to  it. 
But  her  trouble  is  runnin'.  Let  anything  happen  in 
the  alley,  an'  she  's  up  an'  out  in  the  thick  of  it. 
I  'm  jes'  as  apt  to  come  home  an'  find  her  playin' 
ball  with  the  baby  in  her  arms,  as  not.  But  I  don't 
have  to  dress  her  down  near  as  often  as  I  used  to." 

"  Then  you  would  n't  say  she  was  a  bad  child  ?  " 

Mrs.  Snawdor's  emphatic  negative  was  arrested  in 
the  utterance  by  Mr.  Mason's  accusing  eye. 


JUVENILE  COURT  57 

"  Well,  I  never  seen  no  child  that  was  a  angel," 
she  compromised. 

"  Does  Nancy  go  to  school  ?  "  the  judge  asked. 

"  Well,  I  was  threatenin*  her  the  other  day,  if 
she  did  n't  behave  herself,  I  was  goin'  to  start  her 
in  again." 

"  I  ain't  been  sence  Christmas,"  volunteered 
Nance,  still  sniffling. 

"  You  shet  yer  mouth,"  requested  Mrs.  Snawdor 
with  great  dignity. 

"  Why  has  n't  she  been  to  school  since  Christ 
mas  ?  "  the  judge  proceeded  sternly. 

"  Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  it  was  on  account  of 
Mr.  Snawdor.  He  got  mad  'bout  the  vaccination. 
He  don't  believe  in  it.  Says  it  gives  you  the  rheu 
matism.  He  's  got  a  iron  ring  on  ever'  one  of  the 
childern.  Show  yours  to  the  jedge,  Nance!  He 
says  ef  they  has  to  vaccinate  'em  to  educate  'em, 
they  ain't  goin'  to  de  neither  one." 

"  But  don't  you  know  that  we  have  compulsory 
education  in  this  State?  Hasn't  the  truant  officer 
been  to  see  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Snawdor  looked  self-conscious  and  cast 
down  her  eyes. 

:t  Well,  not  as  many  times  as  Snawdor  says  he 
has.  Snawdor  's  that  jealous  he  don't  want  me  to 
have  no  gentlemen  visitors.  When  I  see  the  truant 
officer  or  the  clock-man  comin',  I  just  keep  out  of 
sight  to  avoid  trouble." 


58  CALVARY  ALLEY 

The  judge's  eyes  twinkled,  then  grew  stern.  "  In 
the  meanwhile,"  he  said,  "  Nancy  is  growing  up  in 
ignorance.  What  sort  of  a  woman  are  you  to  let  a 
child  go  as  ragged  and  dirty  as  this  one  and  to  re 
fuse  her  an  education?  " 

"  Well,  schools  ain't  what  they  wuz  when  me  an' 
you  wuz  young,"  Mrs.  Snawdor  said  argumenta- 
tively.  "  They  no  more  'n  git  a  child  there  than 
they  w-ant  to  cut  out  their  palets  or  put  spectacles  on 
her.  But  honest,  Judge,  the  truth  of  it  is  I  can't 
spare  Nance  to  go  to  school.  I  got  a  job  scrubbin' 
four  nights  in  the  week  at  the  post-office,  an'  I  got 
to  have  some  help  in  the  daytime.  I  leave  it  to  you 
if  I  ain't." 

"  That 's  neither  here  nor  there,"  said  the  judge. 
"  It  is  your  business  to  have  her  at  school  every 
morning  and  to  see  that  she  submits  to  the  regula 
tions.  You  are  an  able-bodied  woman  and  have  an 
able-bodied  husband.  \Vhy  don't  you  move  into  a 
decent  house  in  a  decent  neighborhood  ?  " 

"  There  ain't  nothin'  the  matter  with  our  neigh 
borhood.  If  you  'd  jes'  git  'em  to  fix  the  house  up 
some.  The  roof  leaks  something  scandalous." 

"Who  is  your  landlord?" 

"  Well,  they  tell  me  he  is,"  said  Mrs.  Snaw 
dor,  pointing  a  malicious  finger  at  Mr.  Clarke. 
This  coup  d'etat  caused  considerable  diversion, 
and  the  judge  had  to  call  the  court  sharply  to 
order. 


JUVENILE  COURT  59 

"  Is  that  your  husband  in  the  rear  of  the  room?  " 
he  asked  Mrs.  Snawdor. 

"  Law,  no ;  that 's  Mr.  Burks,  our  boarder.  I 
begged  Snawdor  to  come,  but  he  's  bashful." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Burks,  will  you  step  forward  and  tell 
us  what  you  know  of  this  little  girl  ?  " 

Uncle  Jed  cleared  his  throat,  made  a  pass  at  the 
place  where  his  front  hair  used  to  be,  and  came 
forward. 

"Have  you  known  this  child  long?"  asked  the 
judge. 

"  Eleven  years,  going  on  twelve,"  said  Uncle  Jed, 
with  a  twinkle  in  his  small  eyes,  "  me  an'  her 
grandpa  fought  side  by  side  in  the  battle  of  Chicka- 
saw  Bluffs." 

"  So  she  comes  of  fighting  stock,"  said  the  judge. 
"  Do  you  consider  her  incorrigible  ?  " 

"Sir?" 

"  Do  you  think  her  stepmother  is  able  to  control 
her?" 

Uncle  Jed  looked  a  trifle  embarrassed. 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Snawdor  ain't  whut  you  might  say 
regular  in  her  method.  Sometimes  she 's  kinder 
rough  on  Nance,  and  then  again  she  's  a  heap  sight 
too  easy." 

"  That 's  a  God's  truth !  "  Mrs.  Snawdor  agreed 
fervently  from  the  rear. 

'  Then  you  do  not  consider  it  altogether  the 
child's  fault?" 


60  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  No,  sir,  I  can't  say  as  I  do.  She  jes'  gits  the 
signals  mixed  sometimes,  that 's  all." 

The  judge  smiled. 

"  So  you  think  if  she  understood  the  signals,  she  'd 
follow  them?  " 

Uncle  Jed's  face  became  very  earnest  as  he  laid 
his  hand  on  Nance's  head. 

"  I  believe  if  this  here  little  lass  was  to  once  git 
it  into  her  head  that  a  thing  was  right,  she  'd  do  it 
if  it  landed  her  where  it  landed  her  paw,  at  the  foot 
of  a  forty- foot  embankment  with  a  engine  a-top  of 
her." 

"  That 's  a  pretty  good  testimony  to  her  charac 
ter,"  said  the  judge.  "  It 's  our  business,  then,  to  see 
that  she  gets  more  definite  instructions  as  to  the 
traffic  laws  of  life.  Nance,  you  and  Dan  step  up 
here  again." 

The  children  stood  before  him,  breathing  hard, 
looking  him  straight  in  the  face. 

"  You  have  both  been  breaking  the  law.  It 's  a 
serious  thing  to  be  up  in  court.  It  is  usually  the 
first  step  on  the  down  grade.  But  I  don't  believe 
either  of  you  have  been  wholly  to  blame.  I  am 
going  to  give  you  one  more  chance  and  put  you  both 
on  probation  to  Mrs.  Purdy,  to  whom  you  are  to 
report  once  a  week.  Is  Mrs.  Purdy  in  the  room  ?  " 

An  elderly  little  lady  slipped  forward  and  stood 
behind  them  with  a  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  each. 
Nance  did  not  dare  look  around,  but  there  was  some- 


JUVENILE  COURT  61 

thing  comforting  and  reassuring  in  that  fat  hand 
that  lay  on  her  shoulder. 

"  One  more  complaint  against  either  of  you," 
cautioned  the  judge  impressively,  "  and  it  will  be 
the  house  of  reform.  If  your  families  can't  make 
you  behave,  the  State  can.  But  we  don't  want  to 
leave  it  to  the  family  or  the  State ;  we  want  to  leave 
it  to  you.  I  believe  you  can  both  make  good,  but 
you  '11  have  to  fight  for  it." 

Nance's  irregular  features  broke  into  a  smile.  It 
was  a  quick,  wide  smile  and  very  intimate. 

"Fight?"  she  repeated,  with  a  quizzical  look  at 
the  judge.  "  I  thought  that  was  what  we  was 
pinched  fer." 


CHAPTER  V 

ON    PROBATION 

FOR  a  brief  period  Nance  Molloy  walked  the 
paths  of  righteousness.  The  fear  of  being 
"  took  up  "  proved  a  salutary  influence,  but  perma 
nent  converts  are  seldom  made  through  fear  of  pun 
ishment  alone.  She  was  trying  by  imitation  and 
suggestion  to  grope  her  way  upward,  but  the  light 
she  climbed  by  was  a  borrowed  light  which  swung 
far  above  her  head  and  threw  strange,  misleading 
shadows  across  her  path.  The  law  that  allowed  a 
man  to  sell  her  fire-crackers  and  then  punished  her 
for  firing  them  off,  that  allowed  any  passer-by  to 
kick  her  stone  off  the  hop-scotch  square  and  pun 
ished  her  for  hurling  the  stone  after  him,  was  a 
baffling  and  difficult  thing  to  understand. 

At  school  it  was  no  better.  The  truant  officer 
said  she  must  go  every  day,  yet  when  she  got  there, 
there  was  no  room  for  her.  She  had  to  sit  in  the 
seat  with  two  other  little  girls  who  bitterly  resented 
the  intrusion. 

"  You  ought  n't  to  be  in  this  grade  anyhow !  " 
declared  one  of  them.  "  A  girl  ought  to  be  in 


ON  PROBATION  63 

the  primer  that  turns  her  letters  the  wrong  way." 

"  Well,  my  letters  spell  the  words  right,"  said 
Nance  hotly,  "  an'  that 's  more  'n  yours  do,  Pie- 
Face!" 

Whereupon  the  girl  stuck  out  her  tongue,  and 
Nance  promptly  shoved  her  off  the  end  of  the  seat, 
with  the  result  that  her  presence  was  requested  in 
the  office  at  the  first  recess. 

"If  you  would  learn  to  make  your  letters  right, 
the  girls  would  not  tease  you,"  said  the  principal, 
kindly.  "  Why  do  you  persist  in  turning  them  the 
wrong  way  ?  " 

Now  Nance  had  learned  to  write  by  copying 
the  inscriptions  from  the  reverse  side  of  the  cathe 
dral  windows,  and  she  still  believed  the  cathedral 
was  right.  But  she  liked  the  principal  and  she 
wanted  very  much  to  get  a  good  report,  so  she  gave 
in. 

"All  right,"  she  said  good-naturedly,  "I'll  do 
'em  your  way.  An'  ef  you  ketch  me  fightin'  agin,  I 
hope  you  '11  lick  hell  outen  me !  " 

The  principal,  while  decrying  its  forcible  expres 
sion,  applauded  her  good  intention,  and  from  that 
time  on  took  special  interest  in  her. 

Nance's  greatest  drawback  these  days  was  Mrs. 
Snawdor.  That  worthy  lady,  having  her  chief  do 
mestic  prop  removed  and  finding  the  household  du 
ties  resting  too  heavily  upon  her  own  shoulders,  con 
ceived  an  overwhelming  hatred  for  the  school,  the 


64  CALVARY  ALLEY 

unknown  school-teacher,  and  the  truant  officer,  for 
whom  she  had  hitherto  harbored  a  slightly  romantic 
interest. 

"  I  ain't  got  a  mite  of  use  for  the  whole  lay-out," 
she  announced  in  a  sweeping  condemnation  one 
morning  when  Nance  was  reminding  her  for  the 
fourth  time  that  she  had  to  have  a  spelling  book. 
"  They'  re  forever  wantin'  somethin'.  It  ain't  no 
use  beginnin'  to  humor  'em.  Was  n't  they  after  me 
to  put  specs  on  Fidy  last  week?  I  know  their  tricks, 
standin'  in  with  eye-doctors  an'  dentists!  An'  here 
I  been  fer  goin'  on  ten  years,  tryin'  to  save  up  to 
have  my  own  eye-teeth  drawed  an'  decent  ones  put 
in.  Snawdor  promised  when  we  got  married  that 
would  be  his  first  present  to  me.  Well,  if  I  ever 
get  'em,  they  will  be  his  first  present." 

"  Teacher  says  you  ought  n't  to  leave  the  milk 
settin'  uncovered  like  that;  it  gits  germans  in  it," 
said  Nance. 

"  I  'd  like  to  know  whose  milk-can  this  is?  "  de 
manded  Mrs.  Snawdor  indignantly.  "  You  tell  her 
when  she  pays  fer  my  milk,  it  '11  be  time  enough  fer 
her  to  tell  me  what  to  do  with  it.  You  need  n't  be 
scurryin'  so  to  git  off.  I  'm  fixin'  to  go  to  market. 
You  '11  have  to  stay  an'  'tend  to  the  children  'til  I  git 
back." 

"  But  I  'm  tryin'  to  git  a  good  report,"  urged 
Nance.  "  I  don't  want  to  be  late." 

"  I  '11  send  a  excuse  by  Fidy,  an'  say  you  're  sick 


ON  PROBATION  65 

in  bed.  Then  you  kin  stay  home  all  day  an'  git  the 
house  cleaned  up." 

"  Naw,  I  won't,"  said  Nance  rebelliously,  "  I  ain't 
goin'  to  miss  ag'in." 

'  You  're  goin'  to  shut  up  this  minute,  you  sass- 
box,  or  I  '11  take  you  back  to  that  there  juvenile 
court.  Git  me  a  piece  o'  paper  an'  a  pencil." 

Wjth  great  effort  she  wrote  her  note  while  Nance 
stood  sullenly  by,  looking  over  her  shoulder. 

"  You  spelled  teacher's  name  with  a  little  letter," 
Nance  muttered. 

"  I  done  it  a-purpose,"  said  Mrs.  Snawdor  vindic 
tively,  "  I  ain't  goin'  to  spell  her  with  a  capital ;  she 
ain't  worth  it." 

Nance  would  undoubtedly  have  put  up  a  more 
spirited  fight  for  her  rights,  had  she  not  been  anxious 
to  preserve  peace  until  the  afternoon.  It  was  the 
day  appointed  by  the  court  for  her  and  Dan  Lewis 
to  make  their  first  report  to  Mrs.  Purdy,  whose  name 
and  address  had  been  given  them  on  a  card.  She 
had  washed  her  one  gingham  apron  for  the  occasion, 
and  had  sewed  up  the  biggest  rent  in  her  stockings. 
The  going  forth  alone  with  Dan  on  an  errand  of  any 
nature  was  an  occasion  of  importance.  It  some 
how  justified  those  coupled  initials,  enclosed  in  a 
gigantic  heart,  that  she  had  surreptitiously  drawn 
on  the  fence. 

After  her  first  disappointment  in  being  kept  at 
home,  she  set  about  her  task  of  cleaning  the  Snawdor 


66  CALVARY  ALLEY 

flat  with  the  ardor  of  a  young  Hercules  attacking 
the  Augean  stables.  First  she  established  the  twins 
in  the  hall  with  a  string  and  a  bent  pin  and  the 
beguiling  belief  that  if  they  fished  long  enough  over 
the  banister  they  would  catch  something.  Next  she 
anchored  the  screaming  baby  to  a  bedpost  and  re 
duced  him  to  subjection  by  dipping  his  fingers  in 
sorghum,  then  giving  him  a  feather.  The  absorbing 
occupation  of  plucking  the  feather  from  one  sticky 
hand  to  the  other  rendered  him  passive  for  an  hour. 

These  preliminaries  being  arranged,  Nance  turned 
her  attention  to  the  work  in  hand.  Her  method 
consisted  in  starting  at  the  kitchen,  which  was  in 
front,  and  driving  the  debris  back,  through  the  dark, 
little,  middle  room,  until  she  landed  it  all  in  a 
formidable  mass  in  Mrs.  Snawdor's  bedroom  at  the 
rear.  This  plan,  pursued  day  after  day,  with  the 
general  understanding  that  Mrs.  Snawdor  was  going 
to  take  a  day  off  soon  and  clean  up,  had  resulted  in 
a  condition  of  indescribable  chaos.  As  Mr.  Snaw 
dor  and  the  three  younger  children  slept  in  the  rear 
room  at  night,  and  Mrs.  Snawdor  slept  in  it  the 
better  part  of  the  day,  the  hour  for  cleaning  seldom 
arrived. 

To-day  as  Nance  stood  in  the  doorway  of  this 
stronghold  of  dirt  and  disorder,  she  paused,  broom 
in  hand.  The  floor,  as  usual,  was  littered  with 
papers  and  strings,  the  beds  were  unmade,  the 
wash-stand  and  dresser  were  piled  high  with  a 


ON  PROBATION  67 

miscellaneous  collection,  and  the  drawers  of  each 
stood  open,  disgorging  their  contents.  On  the 
walls  hung  three  enlarged  crayons  of  bridal  couples, 
in  which  the  grooms  were  different,  but  the  bride 
the  same.  On  the  dusty  window  sill  were  bottles 
and  empty  spools,  broken  glass  chimneys,  and  the 
clock  that  ran  ten  minutes  slow.  The  debris  not 
only  filled  the  room,  but  spilled  out  into  the  fire- 
escape  and  down  the  rickety  iron  ladders  and  flowed 
about  the  garbage  barrels  in  the  passage  below. 

It  was  not  this  too  familiar  scene,  however,  that 
made  Nance  pause  with  her  hand  on  the  door-knob 
and  gaze  open-mouthed  into  the  room.  It  was  the 
sight  of  Mr.  Snawdor  sitting  on  the  side  of  the  bed 
with  his  back  toward  her,  wiping  his  little  red- 
rimmed  eyes  on  a  clean  pocket  handkerchief,  and 
patting  his  trembling  mouth  with  the  hand  that  was 
not  under  the  quilt.  Heretofore  Nance  had  re 
garded  Mr.  Snawdor  as  just  one  of-  the  many  dis 
comforts  with  which  the  family  had  to  put  up.  His 
whining  protests  against  their  way  of  living  had 
come  to  be  as  much  a  matter  of  course  as  the  creak 
ing  door  or  the  smoking  chimney.  Nobody  ever 
thought  of  listening  to  what  he  was  saying,  and 
everybody  pushed  and  ordered  him  about,  including 
Nance,  who  enjoyed  using  Mrs.  Snawdor's  high 
handed  method  with  him,  when  that  lady  was  not 
present. 

But  when  she  saw  him  sitting  there  with  his 


68  CALVARY  ALLEY 

back  to  her,  crying,  she  was  puzzled  and  disturbed. 
As  she  watched,  she  saw  him  fumble  for  something 
under  the  quilt,  then  lift  a  shining  pistol,  and  place 
the  muzzle  to  his  thin,  bald  temple.  With  a  cry  of 
terror,  she  dashed  forward  and  knocked  the  weapon 
from  his  hand. 

"  You  put  that  down ! "  she  cried,  much  as  she 
would  have  commanded  William  J.  to  leave  the 
butcher  knife  alone.  "  Do  you  want  to  kill  yer- 
self?" 

Mr.  Snawdor  started  violently,  then  collapsing  be 
side  the  bed,  confessed  that  he  did. 

"  What  fer?  "  asked  Nance,  terror  giving  way  to 
sheer  amazement. 

"I  want  to  quit!"  cried  Mr.  Snawdor,  hysteric 
ally.  "  I  can't  stand  it  any  longer.  I  'm  a  plumb 
failure  and  I  ain't  goin'  to  ever  be  anything  else. 
If  your  maw  had  taken  care  of  what  I  had,  we 
would  n't  have  been  where  we  are  at.  Look  at  the 
way  we  live !  Like  pigs  in  a  pen !  We  're  nothing 
but  pore  white  trash ;  that 's  what  we  are !  " 

Nance  stood  beside  him  with  her  hand  on  his 
shoulder.  Poor  white  trash!  That  was  what  the 
Clarke  boy  had  called  her.  And  now  Mr.  Snawdor, 
the  nominal  head  of  the  family,  was  acknowledging 
it  to  be  true.  She  looked  about  her  in  new  and 
quick  concern. 

"  I  'm  going  to  clean  up  in  here,  too,"  she  said. 


ON  PROBATION  69 

"  I  don't  keer  whut  mammy  says.  It  '11  look  better 
by  night;  you  see  if  it  don't." 

"  It  ain't  only  that  — "  said  Mr.  Snawdor ;  then 
he  pulled  himself  up  and  looked  at  her  appealingly. 
"  You  won't  say  nuthin'  about  this  mornin',  will 
you,  Nance  ? " 

"  Not  if  you  gimme  the  pistol,"  said  Nance. 

When  he  was  gone,  she  picked  up  the  shining 
weapon  and  gingerly  dropped  it  out  on  the  adjoin 
ing  roof.  .  Then  her  knees  felt  suddenly  wobbly, 
and  she  sat  down.  What  if  she  had  been  a  minute 
later  and  Mr.  Snawdor  had  pulled  the  trigger? 
She  shivered  as  her  quick  imagination  pictured  the 
scene.  If  Mr.  Snawdor  felt  like  that  about  it,  there 
was  but  one  thing  to  do;  to  get  things  cleaned  up 
and  try  to  keep  them  so. 

Feeling  very  important  and  responsible,  she 
swept  and  straightened  and  dusted,  while  her  mind 
worked  even  faster  than  her  nimble  hands.  Stand 
ards  are  formed  by  comparisons,  and  so  far  Nance's 
opportunity  for  instituting  comparisons  had  been 
decidedly  limited. 

"  We  ain't  pore  white,  no  such  a  thing ! "  she 
kept  saying  to  herself.  "  Our  house  ain't  no  worser 
nor  nobody  else's.  Mis'  Smelts  is  just  the  same,  an' 
if  Levinski's  is  cleaner,  it  smells  a  heap  worse." 

Dinner  was  over  before  Mrs.  Snawdor  returned. 
She  came  into  the  kitchen  greatly  ruffled  as  to  hair 


70  CALVARY  ALLEY 

and  temper  from  having  been  caught  by  the  hook 
left  hanging  over  the  banisters  by  William  J. 

"  Gimme  the  rocker !  "  she  demanded.  "  My  feet 
hurt  so  bad  I  'd  just  like  to  unscrew  'em  an'  fling 
'em  in  the  dump  heap." 

"Where  you  been  at?"  asked  Uncle  Jed,  who 
was  cutting  himself  a  slice  of  bread  from  the  loaf. 

"  I  been  down  helpin'  the  new  tenant  move  in  on 
the  first  floor." 

"Any  childern?"  asked  Nance  and  Lobelia  in 
one  breath. 

"No;  just  a  foreign-lookin'  old  gentleman,  put- 
tin'  on  as  much  airs  as  if  he  was  movin'  into  the 
Walderastoria.  Nobody  knows  his  name  or  where 
he  comes  from.  Ike  Lavinski  says  he  plays  the 
fiddle  at  the  theayter.  Talk  about  your  helpless 
people!  I  had  to  take  a  hand  in  gettin'  his  things 
unloaded.  He  liked  to  never  got  done  thankin' 
me." 

Mr.  Snawdor,  who  had  been  sitting  in  dejected 
silence  before  his  untouched  food,  pushed  his  plate 
back  and  sighed  deeply. 

"  Now,  fer  heaven  sake,  Snawdor,"  began  his 
wife  in  tones  of  exasperation,  "can't  I  do  a  kind 
act  to  a  neighbor  without  a-rufflin'  yer  feathers  the 
wrong  way?  " 

"  I  cleaned  up  yer  room  while  you  was  gone," 
said  Nance,  eager  to  divert  the  conversation  from 


ON  PROBATION  71 

Mr.  Snawdor.  "  Uncle  Jed  an'  me  carried  the 
trash  down  an'  it  filled  the  ash  barrel  clean  up  to 
the  top." 

"Well,  I  hope  an'  pray' you  didn't  throw  away 
my  insurance  book.  I  was  aimin'  to  clean  up,  my 
self,  to-morrow.  What  on  earth  's  the  matter  with 
Rosy  Velt?" 

Rosy,  who  had  been  banished  to  the  kitchen  for 
misbehavior,  had  been  conducting  a  series  of  deli 
cate  experiments,  with  disastrous  results.  She  had 
been  warned  since  infancy  never  to  put  a  button  up 
her  nose,  but  Providence  having  suddenly  placed 
one  in  her  way,  and  at  the  same  time  engaged  her 
mother's  attention  elsewhere,  the  opportunity  was 
too  propitious  to  be  lost. 

Nance  took  advantage  of  her  stepmother's  sud 
den  departure  to  cheer  up  Mr.  Snawdor. 

"  We  're  gittin'  things  cleaned  up,"  she  said,  "  I 
can't  work  no  more  to-day  though,  'cause  I  got  to 
report  to  the  lady." 

"  Ain't  you  goin'  to  slick  yerself  up  a  bit?  "  asked 
Uncle  Jed,  making  a  futile  effort  to  smooth  her 
hair. 

"  I  have,"  said  Nance,  indignantly,  "  Can't  you 
see  I  got  on  a  clean  apron?  " 

Uncle  Jed's  glance  was  not  satisfied  as  it  traveled 
from  the  dirty  dress  below  the  apron  to  the  torn 
stockings  and  shabby  shoes. 


72  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"Why  don't  you  wear  the  gold  locket?"  sug 
gested  Mrs.  Snawdor,  who  now  returned  with  Rosy 
in  one  hand  and  the  button  in  the  other. 

The  gold  locket  was  the  one  piece  of  jewelry  in 
the  family  and  when  it  was  suspended  on  a  black 
ribbon  around  Nance's  neck,  it  filled  her  with  a 
sense  of  elegance.  So  pleased  was  she  with  its  ef 
fect  that  as  she  went  out  that  afternoon,  she  peeped 
in  on  the  new  tenant  in  the  hope  that  he  would  no 
tice  it.  She  found  him  leaning  over  a  violin  case, 
and  her  interest  was  fired  at  once. 

"  Can  you  play  on  the  fiddle?  "  she  demanded. 

The  small,  elderly  man  in  the  neat,  black  suit 
lifted  his  head  and  smiled  at  her  over  his  glasses. 

"  Yes,  my  little  friend,"  he  said  in  a  low,  refined 
voice,  "  I  will  play  for  you  to  dance  sometime. 
You  would  like  that  ?  Yes  ?  " 

Nance  regarded  him  gravely. 

"  Say,  are  you  a  Polock  or  a  Dago?  "  she  asked. 

He  gave  an  amused  shrug. 

"  I  am  neither.  My  name  is  Mr.  Demorest. 
And  you  are  my  little  neighbor,  perhaps?  " 

"  Third  floor  on  the  right,"  said  Nance,  adding 
in  a  business-like  tone,  "  1 11  be  down  to  dance  to 
night." 

She  would  have  liked  very  much  to  stay  longer, 
for  the  old  gentleman  was  quite  unlike  any  one  she 
had  ever  talked  to  before,  but  the  card  in  her  hand 


ON  PROBATION  73 

named  the  hour  of  two,  and  back  of  the  card  was 
Mrs.  Purdy,  and  back  of  Mrs.  Purdy  the  juvenile 
court,  the  one  thing  in  life  so  far  whose  authority 
Nance  had  seen  fit  to  acknowledge. 


CHAPTER  VI 

BUTTERNUT    LANE 

AT  the  corner  Dan  Lewis  stood  aside  like  a  de 
posed  chieftain  while  his  companions  knelt  in 
an  excited  ring,  engrossed  in  a  game  sanctioned  by 
custom  and  forbidden  by  law.  Even  to  Nance's 
admiring  eye  he  looked  dirtier  and  more  ragged  than 
usual,  and  his  scowl  deepened  as  she  approached. 

"  I  ain't  goin'/'  he  said. 

"  Yes,  you  are,  too.  Why  not  ?  "  said  Nance,  in- 
consequently. 

"  Aw,  it  ain't  no  use." 

"  Ain't  you  been  to  school?  " 

"  Yep,  but  I  ain't  goin'  to  that  lady's  house.  I 
ain't  fit." 

"  You  got  to  go  to  take  me,"  said  Nance,  diplo 
matically.  "  I  don't  know  where  Butternut  Lane  's 
at." 

"  You  could  find  it,  could  n't  you?  " 

Nance  did  n't  think  she  could.  In  fact  she  de 
veloped  a  sudden  dependence  wholly  out  of  keeping 
with  her  usual  self-reliance. 

This  seemed  to  complicate  matters  for  Dan.  He 
stood  irresolutely  kicking  his  bare  heels  against  the 

74 


BUTTERNUT  LANE  75 

curb  and  then  reluctantly  agreed  to  take  her  as  far 
as  Mrs.  Purdy's  gate,  provided  nothing  more  was 
expected  of  him. 

Their  way  led  across  the  city  to  a  suburb,  and 
they  were  hot  and  tired  before  half  the  distance  was 
covered.  But  the  expedition  was  fraught  with  in 
terest  for  Nance.  After  the  first  few  squares  of 
sullen  silence,  Dan  seemed  to  forget  that  she  was 
merely  a  girl  and  treated  her  with  the  royal  equal 
ity  usually,  reserved  for  boys.  So  confidential  did 
they  become  that  she  ventured  to  put  a  question  to 
him  that  had  been  puzzling  her  since  the  events  of 
the  morning. 

"  Say,  Dan,  when  anybody  kills  hisself,  is  it  mur 
der?" 

"  It 's  kinder  murder.  You  would  n't  ketch  me 
doin'  it  as  long  as  I  could  get  something  to  eat." 

"  You  kin  always  git  a  piece  of  bread,"  said 
Nance. 

"  You  bet  you  can't ! "  said  Dan  with  conviction. 
"  I  ain't  had  nothin'  to  eat  myself  since  yisterday 
noon." 

"  Yer  maw  did  n't  come  in  last  night  ?  " 

"  I  'spec'  she  went  on  a  visit  somewhere,"  said 
Dan,  whose  lips  trembled  slightly  despite  the  stump 
of  a  cigarette  that  he  manfully  held  between  them. 

"  Could  n't  you  git  in  a  window  ?  " 

"  Nope ;  the  shutters  was  shut.  Maybe  I  don't 
wisht  it  was  December,  an'  I  was  fourteen!  " 


76  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  Sammy  Smelts  works  an'  he  ain't  no  older  'n 
me,"  said  Nance.  "  You  kin  git  a  fake  certificate 
fer  a  quarter." 

Dan  smiled  bitterly. 

"  Where  'm  I  goin'  to  git  the  quarter?  They 
won't  let  me  sell  things  on  the  street,  or  shoot  craps, 
or  work.  Gee,  I  wisht  I  was  rich  as  that  Clarke 
boy.  Ike  Lavinski  says  he  buys  a  quarter's  worth 
of  candy  at  a  time !  He  's  in  Ike's  room  at  school." 

"  He  was  n't  there  yesterday,"  said  Nance. 
"  Uncle  Jed  seen  him  with  another  boy,  goin'  out 
the  railroad  track." 

"  I  know  it.  He  played  hookey.  He  wrote  a 
excuse  an'  signed  his  maw's  name  to  it.  Ike  seen 
him  do  it.  An'  when  the  principal  called  up  his 
maw  this  mornin'  an'  ast  her  'bout  it,  she  up  an' 
said  she  wrote  it  herself." 

Nance  was  not  sure  whether  she  was  called  upon 
to  admire  the  astuteness  of  Mac  or  his  mother,  so 
she  did  not  commit  herself.  But  she  was  keenly 
interested.  Ever  since  that  day  in  the  juvenile 
court  she  had  been  haunted  by  the  memory  of  a 
trim,  boyish  figure  arrayed  in  white,  and  by  a  pair 
of  large  brown  eyes  which  disdainfully  refused  to 
glance  in  her  direction. 

"  Say,  Dan,"  she  asked  wistfully,  "  have  you  got 
a  girl?" 

"  Naw,"  said  Dan  disdainfully.  "  what  do  I  keer 
about  girls?  " 


BUTTERNUT  LANE  77 

"  I  don't  know.  I  thought  maybe  you  had.  I 
bet  that  there  Clarke  boy  's  got  two  or  three." 

"  Let  him  have  'em,"  said  Dan;  then,  finding  the 
subject  distasteful,  he  added,  "  what 's  the  matter 
with  hookin'  on  behind  that  there  wagon?"  And 
suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  they  both  went  in 
hot  pursuit. 

After  a  few  jolting  squares  during  which  Nance 
courted  death  with  her  flying  skirts  brushing  the 
revolving  wheels,  the  wagon  turned  into  a  side 
street,  and  they  were  obliged  to  walk  again. 

"I  wonder  if  this  ain't  the  place?"  she  said,  as 
they  came  in  sight  of  a  low,  white  house  half 
smothered  in  beech-trees,  with  a  flower  garden  at 
one  side,  at  the  end  of  which  was  a  vine-covered 
summer-house. 

"  Here 's  where  I  beat  it! "  said  Dan,  but  before 
he  could  make  good  his  intention,  the  stout  little 
lady  on  the  porch  had  spied  them  and  came  hurry 
ing  down  the  walk,  holding  out  both  hands. 

"  Well,  if  here  are  n't  my  probationers ! "  she 
cried  in  a  warm,  comfortable  voice  which  seemed  to 
suggest  that  probationers  were  what  she  liked  best 
in  the  world. 

"  Let  me  see,  dear,  your  name  is  Mac  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am,  it 's  Dan,"  said  that  youth,  trying 
to  put  out  the  lighted  cigarette  stump  which  he  had 
hastily  thrust  into  his  pocket. 

"  Ah !  to  be  sure !     And  yours  is  —  Mary  ?  " 


78  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  No,  ma'am,  it 's  Nance." 

"  Why,  of  course !  "  cried  the  little  lady,  beaming 
at  them,  "  I  remember  perfectly." 

She  was  scarcely  taller  than  they  were  as  she 
walked  between  them,  with  an  arm  about  the  shoul 
der  of  each.  She  wore  a  gray  dress  and  a  wide 
white  collar  pinned  with  a  round  blue  pin  that  just 
matched  her  round  blue  eyes.  On  each  side  of  her 
face  was  a  springy  white  curl  that  bobbed  up  and 
down  as  she  walked. 

"  Now,"  she  said,  with  an  expectant  air,  when 
they  reached  the  house.  "  Where  shall  we  begin  ? 
Something  to  eat?  " 

Her  question  was  directed  to  Dan,  and  he  flushed 
hotly. 

"  No,  ma'am,"  he  said  proudly. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Nance,  almost  in  the  same 
breath. 

"I  vote  *  Yes,'  too;  so  the  ayes  have  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Purdy  gaily,  leading  them  through  a  neat  hall 
into  a  neat  kitchen,  where  they  solemnly  took  their 
seats. 

"  My  visitors  always  help  me  with  the  lemonade," 
said  the  purring  little  lady,  giving  Nance  the  lem 
ons  to  roll,  and  Dan  the  ice  to  crack.  Then  as  she 
fluttered  about,  she  began  to  ask  them  vague  and 
seemingly  futile  questions  about  home  and  school 
and  play.  Gradually  their  answers  grew  from 
monosyllables  into  sentences,  until,  by  the  time  the 


BUTTERNUT  LANE  79 

lemonade  was  ready  to  serve,  Nance  was  completely 
thawed  out  and  Dan  was  getting  soft  around  the 
edges.  Things  were  on  the  way  to  positive  con 
viviality  when  Mrs.  Purdy  suddenly  turned  to 
Nance  and  asked  her  where  she  went  to  Sunday 
school. 

Now  Sunday  school  had  no  charms  for  Nance. 
On  the  one  occasion  when  curiosity  had  induced  her 
to  follow  the  stream  of  well-dressed  children  into 
the  side  door  of  the  cathedral,  she  had  met  with  dis 
illusion.  It  was  a  place  where  little  girls  lifted 
white  petticoats  when  they  sat  down  and  straight 
ened  pink  sashes  when  they  got  up,  and  put  nickels 
in  a  basket.  Nance  had  had  no  lace  petticoat  or 
pink  sash  or  nickel.  She  showed  her  discomfort 
by  misbehaving. 

"  Did  n't  you  ever  go  back?  "  asked  Mrs.  Purdy. 

"  Nome.  They  did  n't  want  me.  I  was  bad,  an' 
the  teacher  said  Sunday  school  was  a  place  for  good 
little  girls." 

"  My !  my !  "  said  Mrs.  Purdy,  "  this  will  never 
do.  And  how  about  you,  Dan?  Do  you  go?" 

"  Sometimes  I  've  went,"  said  Dan.     "  I  like  it." 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on  Nance 
could  not  keep  her  eyes  from  the  open  door.  There 
was  more  sky  and  grass  out  there  than  she  had  ever 
seen  at  one  time  before.  The  one  green  spot  with 
which  she  was  familiar  was  the  neat  plot  of  lawn 
on  each  side  of  the  concrete  walk  leading  into  the 


8o  CALVARY  ALLEY 

cathedral,  and  that  had  to  be  viewed  through  a  chink 
in  the  fence  and  was  associated  with  the  words, 
"  Keep  Out." 

When  all  the  lemonade  was  gone,  and  only  one 
cookie  left  for  politeness,  Mrs.  Purdy  took  them  into 
the  sitting-room  where  a  delicate-looking  man  sat  in 
a  wheel-chair,  carving  something  from  a  piece  of 
wood.  Nance's  quick  eyes  took  in  every  detail  of 
the  bright,  commonplace  room;  its  gay,  flowered 
carpet  and  chintz  curtains,  its  "  fruit  pieces  "  in 
wide,  gold  frames,  and  its  crocheted  tidies  presented 
a  new  ideal  of  elegance. 

There  was  a  music-box  on  the  wall  in  which  small 
figures  moved  about  to  a  tinkling  melody ;  there  were 
charm  strings  of  bright  colored  buttons,  and  a  spin 
ning-wheel,  and  a  pair  of  bellows,  all  of  which  Mrs. 
Purdy  explained  at  length. 

"  Sister,"  said  the  man  in  the  chair,  feebly,  "  per 
haps  the  children  would  like  to  see  my  menagerie." 

"  Why,  dearie,  of  course  they  would,"  said  Mrs. 
Purdy,  "  Shall  I  wheel  you  over  to  the  cabinet  ?  " 

"  I  '11  shove  him,"  said  Dan,  making  his  first  vol 
untary  remark. 

"  There  now!  "  said  Mrs.  Purdy,  "  see  how  much 
stronger  he  is  than  I  am !  And  he  did  n't  jolt  you  a 
bit,  did  he,  dearie?  " 

If  the  room  itself  was  interesting,  the  cabinet  was 
nothing  short  of  entrancing.  It  was  full  of  carved 


BUTTERNUT  LANE  81 

animals  in  all  manner  of  grotesque  positions.  And 
the  sick  gentleman  knew  the  name  of  each  and  kept 
saying  such  funny  things  about  them  that  Nance 
laughed  hilariously,  and  Dan  forgot  the  prints  of  his 
muddy  feet  on  the  bright  carpet,  and  even  gave  up 
the  effort  to  keep  his  hand  over  the  ragged  knee  of 
his  pants. 

"  He  knows  all  about  live  animals,  too,"  chirped 
Mrs.  Pnrdy.  "  You  '11  have  to  come  some  day  and 
go  over  to.  the  park  with  us  and  see  his  squirrels. 
There  's  one  he  found  with  a  broken  leg,  and  he 
mended  it  as  good  as  new." 

The  sun  was  slipping  behind  the  trees  before  the 
children  even  thought  of  going  home. 

"  Next  Friday  at  three !  "  said  Mrs.  Purdy,  cheer 
ily  waving  them  good-by.  "  And  we  are  going  to 
see  who  has  the  cleanest  face  and  the  best  report." 

"  We  sure  had  a  good  time,"  said  Nance,  as  they 
hurried  away  through  the  dusk.  "  But  I  '11  git  a 
lickin'  all  right  when  I  git  home." 

"  I  liked  that  there  animal  man,"  said  Dan  slowly, 
"  an'  them  cookies." 

"  Well,  whatever  made  you  lie  to  the  lady  'bout 
bein'  hungry?  " 

"  I  never  lied.  She  ast  me  if  I  wanted  her  to  give 
me  somethin'  to  eat.  I  thought  she  meant  like  a 
beggar.  I  was  n't  goin'  to  take  it  that  way,  but  I 
never  minded  takin'  it  like  —  like  —  company." 


82  CALVARY  ALLEY 

Nance  pondered  the  matter  for  a  while  silently; 
then  she  asked  suddenly : 

"  Say,  Dan,  if  folks  are  horned  poor  white  trash, 
they  don't  have  to  go  on  bein'  it,  do  they  ?  " 


AN    EVICTION 

THE  three  chief  diversions  in  Calvary  Alley, 
aside  from  rights,  were  funerals,  arrests,  and 
evictions.  Funerals  had  the  advantage  of  novelty, 
for  life  de-parted  less  frequently  than  it  arrived; 
arrests  were  in  high  favor  on  account  of  their  dra 
matic  appeal,  but  the  excitement,  while  intense,  was 
usually  too  brief  to  be  satisfying;  for  sustained  in 
terest  the  alley  on  the  whole  preferred  evictions. 

The  week  after  Nance  and  Dan  had  reported  to 
Mrs.  Purdy,  rumor  traveled  from  house  to  house 
and  from  room  to  room  that  the  rent  man  was  put 
ting  the  Lewises  out.  The  piquant  element  in  the 
situation  lay  in  the  absence  of  the  chief  actor. 
"  Mis'  Lewis  "  herself  had  Disappeared,  and  nobody 
knew  where  she  was  or  when  she  would  return. 

For  many  years  the  little  cottage,  sandwiched 
between  Mr.  Snawdor's  "  Bung  and  Fawcett  "  shop 
and  Slap  Jack's  saloon  had  been  the  scandal  and,  it 
must  be  confessed  the  romance  of  the  alley.  It 
stood  behind  closed  shutters,  enveloped  in  mystery, 
and  no  visitor  ventured  beyond  its  threshold.  The 
slender,  veiled  lady  who  flitted  in  and  out  at  queer 
hours,  and  whom  rumor  actually  accused  of  some- 

83 


84  CALVARY  ALLEY 

times  arriving  at  the  corner  in  "a  hack,"  was,  de 
spite  ten  years'  residence,  a  complete  stranger  to  her 
neighbors.  She  was  quiet  and  well-behaved :  she 
wore  good  clothes  and  shamefully  neglected  her 
child.  These  were  the  meager  facts  upon  which 
gossip  built  a  tower  of  conjecture. 

As  for  Dan,  he  was  as  familiar  an  object  in  the 
alley  as  the  sparrows  in  the  gutter  or  the  stray  cats 
about  the  garbage  cans.  Ever  since  he  could  per 
suade  his  small  legs  to  go  the  way  he  wanted  them 
to,  he  had  pursued  his  own  course,  asking  nothing  of 
anybody,  fighting  for  his  meager  rights,  and  becom 
ing  an  adept  in  evading  the  questions  that  seemed  to 
constitute  the  entire  conversation  of  the  adult  world. 
All  that  he  asked  of  life  was  the  chance  to  make  a 
living,  and  this  the  authorities  sternly  forbade  until 
he  should  reach  that  advanced  age  of  fourteen  which 
seemed  to  recede  as  he  approached.  Like  most  of 
the  boys  in  the  gang,  he  had  been  in  business  since 
he  was  six ;  but  it  was  business  that  changed  its  na 
ture  frequently  and  had  to  be  transacted  under  great 
difficulty.  He  had  acquired  proficiency  as  a  crap- 
shooter  only  to  find  that  the  profession  was  not  re 
garded  as  an  honorable  one ;  he  had  invested  heavily 
in  pins  and  pencils  and  tried  to  peddle  them  out  on 
the  avenue,  only  to  find  himself  sternly  taken  in  hand 
by  a  determined  lady  who  talked  to  him  about 
minors  and  street  trades.  Shoe-shining  had  been 
tried;  so  had  selling  papers,  but  each  of  these  re- 


AN  EVICTION  85 

quired  capital,  and  Dan's  appetite  was  of  such  a  de 
manding  character  that  the  acquisition  of  capital  was 
well  nigh  impossible. 

From  that  first  day  when  the  truant  officer  had 
driven  him  into  the  educational  fold,  his  problems 
had  increased.  It  was  not  that  he  disliked  school. 
On  the  contrary  he  was  ambitious  and  made  heroic 
efforts  to  keep  up  with  the  class;  but  it  was  up-hill 
work  getting  an  education  without  text-books.  The 
city,  to  be  sure,  furnished  these  to  boys  whose  moth 
ers  applied  for  them  in  person,  but  Dan's  mother 
never  had  time  to  come.  The  cause  of  most  of  his 
trouble,  however,  was  clothes;  seatless  trousers, 
elbowless  coats,  brimless  hats,  constituted  a  series  of 
daily  mortifications  which  were  little  short  of  tor 
ture. 

Twice,  through  no  fault  of  his  own,  he  had  stood 
alone  before  the  bar  of  justice,  with  no  voice  lifted 
in  his  behalf  save  the  shrill,  small  voice  of  Nance 
Molloy.  Twice  he  had  been  acquitted  and  sent 
back  to  the  old  hopeless  environment,  and  admon 
ished  to  try  again.  How  hard  he  had  tried  and 
against  what  odds,  surely  only  the  angel  detailed  to 
patrol  Calvary  Alley  has  kept  any  record. 

If  any  doubts  assailed  him  concerning  the  mother 
who  took  little  heed  of  his  existence,  he  never  ex 
pressed  them.  Her  name  rarely  passed  his  lips,  but 
he  watched  for  her  coming  as  a  shipwrecked  mariner 
watches  for  a  sail.  When  a  boy  ponders  and  wor- 


86  CALVARY  ALLEY 

ries  over  something  for  which  he  dares  not  ask  an 
explanation,  he  is  apt  to  become  sullen  and  preoccu 
pied.  On  the  day  that  the  long-suffering  landlord 
served  notice,  Dan  told  no  one  of  his  mother's  ab 
sence.  Behind  closed  doors  he  packed  what  things 
he  could,  clumsily  tying  the  rest  of  the  household 
goods  in  the  bedclothes.  At  noon  the  new  tenant 
arrived  and,  in  order  to  get  his  own  things  in,  oblig 
ingly  assisted  in  moving  Dan's  out.  It  was  then  and 
then  only  that  the  news  had  gone  abroad. 

For  three  hours  now  the  worldly  possessions  of 
the  dubious  Mrs.  Lewis  had  lain  exposed  on  the 
pavement,  and  for  three  hours  Dan  had  sat  beside 
them  keeping  guard.  From  every  tenement  window 
inquisitive  eyes  watched  each  stage  of  the  proceed 
ing,  and  voluble  tongues  discussed  every  phase  of 
the  situation.  Every  one  who  passed,  from  Mr. 
Lavinski,  with  a  pile  of  pants  on  his  head,  to  little 
Rosy  Snawdor,  stopped  to  take  a  look  at  him  and 
to  ask  questions. 

Dan  had  reached  a  point  of  sullen  silence.  Sit 
ting  on  a  pile  of  bedclothes,  with  a  gilt-framed  mir 
ror  under  one  arm  and  a  flowered  water  pitcher 
under  the  other,  he  scowled  defiance  at  each  new 
comer.  Against  the  jeers  of  the  boys  he  could  reg 
ister  vows  of  future  vengeance  and  console  himself 
with  the  promise  of  bloody  retribution ;  but  against 
the  endless  queries  and  insinuations  of  his  adult 
neighbors,  he  was  utterly  defenseless. 


AN  EVICTION  87 

"  Looks  like  she  had  ever'thing  fer  the  parlor,  an' 
nothin'  fer  the  kitchen,"  observed  Mrs.  Snawdor 
from  her  third-story  window  to  Mrs.  Smelts  at  her 
window  two  floors  below. 

"  I  counted  five  pairs  of  curlin'  irons  with  my  own 
eyes,"  said  Mrs.  Smelts,  "  an'  as  fer  bottles !  If 
they  took  out  one,  they  took  out  a  hunderd." 

"  You  don't  reckon  that  there  little  alcohol  stove 
was  all  she  had  to  cook  on,  do  you?  "  called  up  Mrs. 
Gorman  from  the  pavement  below. 

"  Maybe  that 's  what  she  het  her  curlin'  irons 
on ! "  was  Mrs.  Snawdor's  suggestion,  a  remark 
which  provoked  more  mirth  than  it  deserved. 

Dan  gazed  straight  ahead  with  no  sign  that  he 
heard.  However  strong  the  temptation  was  to  dart 
away  into  some  friendly  hiding  place,  he  was  evi 
dently  not  going  to  yield  to  it.  The  family  posses 
sions  were  in  jeopardy,  and  he  was  not  one  to  shirk 
responsibilities. 

Advice  was  as  current  as  criticism.  Mrs.  Gor 
man,  being  a  chronic  recipient  of  civic  favors,  advo 
cated  an  appeal  to  the  charity  organization;  Mrs. 
Snawdor,  ever  at  war  with  foreign  interference, 
strongly  opposed  the  suggestion,  while  Mrs.  Smelts 
with  a  covetous  eye  on  the  gilt  mirror  under  Dan's 
arm,  urged  a  sidewalk  sale.  As  for  the  boy  him 
self,  not  a  woman  in  the  alley  but  was  ready  to  take 
him  in  and  share  whatever  the  family  larder  pro 
vided. 


88  CALVARY  ALLEY 

But  to  all  suggestions  Dan  doggedly  shook  his 
head.  He  was  "  thinkin'  it  out,"  he  said,  and  all  he 
wanted  was  to  be  let  alone. 

"  Well,  you  can't  set  there  all  night,"  said  Mrs. 
Snawdor,  "  if  yer  maw  don't  turn  up  by  five  o'clock, 
us  neighbors  is  goin'  to  take  a  hand." 

All  afternoon  Dan  sat  watching  the  corner  round 
which  his  mother  might  still  appear.  Not  a  figure 
had  turned  into  the  alley,  that  he  had  not  seen  it, 
not  a  clanging  car  had  stopped  in  the  street  beyond, 
that  his  quick  ear  had  not  noted. 

About  the  time  the  small  hand  of  the  cathedral 
clock  got  around  to  four,  Nance  Molloy  came  skip 
ping  home  from  school.  She  had  been  kept  in  for  a 
too  spirited  resentment  of  an  older  girl's  casual  ob 
servation  that  both  of  her  shoes  were  for  the  same 
foot.  To  her,  as  to  Dan,  these  trying  conventions 
in  the  matter  of  foot-gear  were  intolerable.  No 
combination  seemed  to  meet  the  fastidious  demands 
of  that  exacting  sixth  grade. 

"  Hello,  Dan !  "  she  said,  coming  to  a  halt  at  sight 
of  the  obstructed  pavement.  "  What 's  all  this 
for?" 

"  Put  out,"  said  Dan  laconically. 

"  Did  n't  yer  maw  never  come  back  ?  " 

"  Nope." 

Nance  climbed  up  beside  him  on  the  bedclothes 
and  took  her  seat. 


AN  EVICTION  89 

"  What  you  goin'  to  do  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  business 
like  tone. 

"  Dunno."  Dan  did  not  turn  his  head  to  look  at 
her,  but  he  felt  a  dumb  comfort  in  her  presence. 
It  was  as  if  her  position  there  beside  him  on  the 
pillory  made  his  humiliation  less  acute.  He  shifted 
the  water  pitcher,  and  jerked  his  thumb  over  his 
shoulder : 

"  They  all  want  to  divide  the  things  an'  take  keer 
of  'em  'til  she  comes,"  he  said,  "  but  I  ain't  goin'  to 
let  'em." 

"  I  would  n't  neither,"  agreed  Nance.  "  Old  man 
Smelts  an'  Mr.  Gorman  'd  have  what  they  took  in 
hock  before  mornin'.  There  's  a  coal  shed  over  to 
Slap  Jack's  ain't  full.  Why  can't  you  put  yer  things 
in  there  for  to-night?  " 

"  He  would  n't  let  me.  He  's  a  mean  old  Dutch 
man." 

"  He  ain't,  neither !  He  's  the  nicest  man  in  the 
alley,  next  to  Uncle  Jed  an'  that  there  old  man  with 
the  fiddle.  Mr.  Jack  an'  me  's  friends.  He  gives 
me  pretzels  all  the  time.  I  '11  go  ast  him." 

A  faint  hope  stirred  in  Dan  as  she  slid  down  from 
her  perch  and  darted  into  the  saloon  next  door.  She 
had  wasted  no  time  in  conjecture  or  sympathy ;  she 
had  plunged  at  once  into  action.  When  she  re 
turned,  the  fat  saloonkeeper  lumbered  in  her  wake : 

"  Dose  tings  is  too  many,  already,"  he  protested. 


90  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  I  got  no  place  to  put  my  coal  once  de  cold  vedder 
comes/' 

"  It  ain't  come  yet,"  said  Nance.  "  Besides  his 
mother  '11  be  here  to-morrow,  I  'spect." 

"  Mebbe  she  vill,  und  mebbe  she  von't,"  said  the 
saloonkeeper  astutely.  "  I  don't  want  dat  I  should 
mess  up  myself  mid  dis  here  piziness." 

"  The  things  ain't  goin'  to  hurt  your  old  coal  shed 
none !  "  began  Nance,  firing  up ;  then  with  a  sudden 
change  of  tactics,  she  slipped  her  hand  into  Mr. 
Jack's  fat,  red  one,  and  lifted  a  pair  of  coaxing  blue 
eyes.  "  Say,  go  on  an'  let  him,  Mr.  Jack !  I  told 
him  you  would.  I  said  you  was  one  of  the  nicest 
men  in  the  alley.  You  ain't  goin'  to  make  me  out 
a  liar,  are  you?" 

"  Veil,  I  leave  him  put  'em  in  for  to-night,"  said 
the  saloonkeeper  grudgingly,  his  Teuton  caution 
overcome  by  Celtic  wile. 

The  conclave  of  women  assembled  in  the  hall  of 
Number  One,  to  carry  out  Mrs.  Snawdor's  threat  of 
"  taking  a  hand,"  were  surprised  a  few  minutes 
later,  to  see  the  objects  under  discussion  being  passed 
over  the  fence  by  Mr.  Jack  and  Dan  under  the  able 
generalship  of  the  one  feminine  member  of  the  alley 
whose  counsel  had  been  heeded. 

When  the  last  article  had  been  transferred  to  the 
shed,  and  a  veteran  padlock  had  been  induced  to 
return  to  active  service,  the  windows  of  the  tene- 


AN  EVICTION  91 

ment  were  beginning  to  glow  dully,  and  the  smell  of 
cabbage  and  onions  spoke  loudly  of  supper. 

Nance,  notwithstanding  the  fourth  peremptory 
summons  from  aloft,  to  walk  herself  straight  home 
that  very  minute,  still  lingered  with  Dan. 

"  Come  on  home  with  me,"  she  said.  "  You  can 
sleep  in  Uncle  Jed's  bed  'til  five  o'clock." 

"  I  kin  take  keer  of  myself  all  right,"  he  said. 
"  It  was  the  things  that  pestered  me." 

"  But  where  you  goin'  to  git  yer  supper?  " 

"  I  got  money,"  he  answered,  making  sure  that  his 
nickel  was  still  in  his  pocket.  "  Besides,  my  mother 
might  come  while  I  was  there." 

"  Well,  don't  you  fergit  that  to-morrow  we  go  to 
Mis'  Purdy's."  " 

Dan  looked  at  her  with  heavy  eyes. 

"  Oh !  I  ain't  got  time  to  fool  around  with  that 
business.  I  don't  know  where  I  '11  be  at  by  to 
morrow." 

"  You  '11  be  right  here,"  said  Nance  firmly,  "  and 
I  ain't  goin'  to  budge  a  step  without  you  if  I  have  to 
wait  all  afternoon." 

"  Well,  I  ain't  comin',"   said  Dan. 

"  I  'm  goin'  to  wait,"  said  Nance,  "  an'  if  I  git 
took  up  fer  not  reporting  it  '11  be  your  fault." 

Dan  slouched  up  to  the  corner  and  sat  on  the  curb 
stone  where  he  could  watch  the  street  cars.  As 
they  stopped  at  the  crossing,  he  leaned  forward 


92  CALVARY  ALLEY 

eagerly  and  scanned  the  passengers  who  descended. 
In  and  out  of  the  swinging  door  of  the  saloon  behind 
him  passed  men,  singly  and  in  groups.  There  were 
children,  too,  with  buckets,  but  they  had  to  go 
around  to  the  side.  He  wanted  to  go  in  himself  and 
buy  a  sandwich,  but  he  did  n't  dare.  The  very  car 
he  was  waiting  for  might  come  in  his  absence. 

At  nine  o'clock  he  was  still  waiting  when  two  men 
came  out  and  paused  near  him  to  light  their  cigars. 
They  were  talking  about  Skeeter  Newson,  the  no 
torious  pickpocket,  who  two  days  before  had  broken 
jail  and  had  not  yet  been  found.  Skeeter's  exploits 
were  a  favorite  topic  of  the  Calvary  Micks,  and  Dan, 
despite  the  low  state  of  his  mind,  pricked  his  ears  to 
listen. 

"  They  traced  him  as  far  as  Chicago,"  said  one  of 
the  men,  "  but  there  he  give  'em  the  slip." 

"  Think  of  the  nerve  of  him  taking  that  Lewis 
woman  with  him,"  said  the  other  voice.  "  By  the 
way,  I  hear  she  lives  around  here  somewhere." 

"  A  bad  lot,"  said  the  first  voice  as  they  moved 
away. 

Dan  sat  rigid  with  his  back  to  the  telegraph  pole, 
his  feet  in  the  gutter,  his  mouth  fallen  open,  staring 
dully  ahead  of  him.  Then  suddenly  he  reached 
blindly  for  a  rock,  and  staggered  to  his  feet,  but  the 
figures  had  disappeaared  in  the  darkness.  He  sat 
down  again,  while  his  breath  came  in  short,  hard 
gasps.  It  was  a  lie!  His  mother  was  not  bad! 


AN  EVICTION  93 

He  knew  she  was  good.  He  wanted  to  shriek  it  to 
the  world.  But  even  as  he  passionately  defended 
her  to  himself,  fears  assailed  him. 

Why  had  they  always  lived  so  differently  from 
other  people,  Why  was  he  never  allowed  to  ask 
questions  or  to  answer  them  or  to  know  where  his 
mother  went  or  how  they  got  their  living?  What 
were  the  parcels  she  always  kept  locked  up  in  the 
trunk  in  the  closet?  Events,  little  heeded  at  the 
time  of  occurrence,  began  to  fall  into  place,  making 
a  hideous  and  convincing  pattern.  Dim  memories 
of  men  stole  out  of  the  past  and  threw  distorted 
shadows  on  his  troubled  brain.  There  was  Bob  who 
had  once  given  him  a  quarter,  and  Uncle  Dick  who 
always  came  after  he  was  in  bed,  and  Newt  —  his 
neck  stiffened  suddenly.  Newt,  whom  his  mother 
used  always  to  be  talking  about,  and  whose  name  he 
had  not  heard  now  for  so  long  that  he  had  almost 
forgotten  it.  Skeeter  Newson  —  Newt  — "  The 
Lewis  Woman."  He  saw  it  all  in  a  blinding  flash, 
and  in  that  awful  moment  of  realization  he  passed 
out  of  his  childhood  and  entered  man's  estate. 

Choking  back  his  sobs,  he  fled  from  the  scene  of 
his  disgrace.  In  one  alley  and  out  another  he 
stumbled,  looking  for  a  hole  in  which  he  could  crawl 
and  pour  out  his  pent-up  grief.  But  privacy  is  a 
luxury  reserved  for  the  rich,  and  Dan  and  his  kind 
cannot  even  claim  a  place  in  which  to  break  their 
hearts. 


94  CALVARY  ALLEY 

It  was  not  until  he  reached  the  river  bank  and  dis 
covered  an  overturned  hogshead  that  he  found  a 
refuge.  Crawling  in,  he  buried  his  face  in  his  arms 
and  wept,  not  with  the  tempestuous  abandonment  of 
a  lonely  child,  but  with  the  dry,  soul-racking  sobs  of 
a  disillusioned  man.  His  mother  had  been  the  one 
beautiful  thing  in  his  life,  and  he  had  worshiped 
her  as  some  being  from  another  world.  Other  boys' 
mothers  had  coarse,  red  hands  and  loud  voices ;  his 
had  soft,  white  hands  and  a  sweet,  gentle  voice  that 
never  scolded. 

Sometimes  when  she  stayed  at  home,  they  had  no 
money,  and  then  she  would  lie  on  the  bed  and  cry, 
and  he  would  try  to  comfort  her.  Those  were  the 
times  when  he  would  stay  away  from  school  and  go 
forth  to  sell  things  at  the  pawn  shop.  The  happiest 
nights  he  could  remember  were  the  ones  when  he  had 
come  home  with  money  in  his  pocket,  to  a  lighted 
lamp  in  the  window,  and  a  fire  on  the  hearth  and  his 
mother's  smile  of  welcome.  But  those  times  were 
few  and  far  between;  he  was  much  more  used  to 
darkened  windows,  a  cold  hearth,  and  an  almost 
empty  larder.  In  explanation  of  these  things  he  had 
accepted  unconditionally  his  mother's  statement  that 
she  was  a  lady. 

As  he  fought  his  battle  alone  there  in  the  dark,  all 
sorts  of  wild  plans  came  to  him.  Across  the  dark- 
river  the  shore  lights  gleamed,  and  down  below  at 
the  wharf,  a  steamboat  was  making  ready  to  depart. 


AN  EVICTION  95 

He  had  heard  of  boys  who  slipped  aboard  ships  and 
beat  their  way  to  distant  cities.  A  fierce  desire 
seized  him  to  get  away,  anywhere,  just  so  he  would 
not  have  to  face  the  shame  and  disgrace  that  had 
come  upon  him.  There  was  no  one  to  care  now 
where  he  went  or  what  became  of  him.  He  would 
run  away  and  be  a  tramp  where  nobody  could  ask 
questions. 

With  quick  decision  he  started  up  to  put  his  plan 
into  action  when  a  disturbing  thought  crossed  his 
mind.  Had  Nance  Molloy  meant  it  when  she  said 
she  would  n't  report  to  the  probation  officer  if  he 
did  n't  go  with  her  ?  Would  she  stand  there  in  the 
alley  and  wait  for  him  all  afternoon,  just  as  he  had 
waited  so  often  for  some  one  who  did  not  come? 
His  reflections  were  disturbed  by  a  hooting  noise  up 
the  bank,  followed  by  a  shower  of  rocks.  The  next 
instant  a  mongrel  pup  scurried  down  the  levee  and 
dropped  shivering  at  his  feet. 

The  yells  of  the  pursuers  died  away  as  Dan  gath 
ered  the  whimpering  beast  into  his  arms  and  exam 
ined  its  injuries. 

"Hold  still,  old  fellow.  I  ain't  goin'  to  hurt 
you,"  he  whispered,  tenderly  wiping  the  blood  from 
one  dripping  paw.  "  I  won't  let  'em  git  you.  I  '11 
take  care  of  you." 

The  dog  lifted  a  pair  of  agonized  eyes  to  Dan's 
face  and  licked  his  hands. 

"  You  lemme  tie  it  up  with  a  piece  of  my  sleeve, 


96  CALVARY  ALLEY 

an'  I  '11  give  you  somethin'  to  eat,"  went  on  Dan. 
"  Me  an'  you  '11  buy  a  sandich  an'  I  '11  eat  the  bread 
an'  you  can  have  the  meat.  Me  an  you  '11  be  part 
ners." 

Misery  had  found  company,  and  already  life 
seemed  a  little  less  desolate.  But  the  new-comer 
continued  to  yelp  with  pain,  and  Dan  examined  the 
limp  leg  dubiously. 

"  I  b'lieve  it 's  broke,"  he  thought.  Then  he  had 
an  inspiration. 

"  I  know  what  I  '11  do,"  he  said  aloud,  "  I  '11  carry 
you  out  to  the  animal  man  when  me  an'  Nance  go  to 
report  to-morrow." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AMBITION   STIRS 

AFTER  Nance  Molloy's  first  visit  to  Butternut 
Lane,  life  became  a  series  of  thrilling  discov 
eries.  Hitherto  she  had  been  treated  collectively. 
At  home  she  was  "  one  of  the  Snawdor  kids  " ;  to  the 
juvenile  world  beyond  the  corner  she  was  "  a  Cal 
vary  Alley  mick  " ;  at  school  she  was  "  a  pupil  of  the 
sixth  grade."  It  remained  for  little  Mrs.  Purdy  to 
reveal  the  fact  to  her  that  she  was  an  individual 
person. 

Mrs.  Purdy  had  the  most  beautiful  illusions  about 
everything.  She  seemed  to  see  her  fellow-men  not 
as  they  were,  but  as  God  intended  them  to  be.  She 
discovered  so  many  latent  virtues  and  attractions  in 
her  new  probationers  that  they  scarcely  knew  them 
selves. 

When,  for  instance,  she  made  the  startling  ob 
servation  that  Nance  had  wonderful  hair,  and  that, 
if  she  washed  it  with  an  egg  and  brushed  it  every 
day,  it  would  shine  like  gold,  Nance  was  interested, 
but  incredulous.  Until  now  hair  had  meant  a  use 
less  mass  of  tangles  that  at  long  intervals  was  sub 
jected  to  an  agonizing  process  of  rebraiding.  The 

97 


98  CALVARY  ALLEY 

main  thing  about  hair  was  that  it  must  never  on  any 
account  be  left  hanging  down  one's  back.  Feuds 
had  been  started  and  battles  lost  by  swinging  braids. 
The  idea  of  washing  it  was  an  entirely  new  one  to 
her;  but  the  vision  of  golden  locks  spurred  her  on 
to  try  the  experiment.  She  carefully  followed  di 
rections,  but  the  egg  had  been  borrowed  from  Mrs. 
Smelts  who  had  borrowed  it  some  days  before  from 
Mrs.  Lavinski,  and  the  result  was  not  what  Mrs. 
Purdy  predicted. 

"  If  ever  I  ketch  you  up  to  sech  fool  tricks  again," 
scolded  Mrs.  Snawdor,  who  had  been  called  to  the 
rescue,  "  I  '11  skin  yer  hide  off !  You  've  no  need  to 
take  yer  hair  down  except  when  I  tell  you.  You  kin 
smooth  it  up  jus'  like  you  always  done." 

Having  thus  failed  in  her  efforts  at  personal 
adornment,  Nance  turned  her  attention  to  beautify 
ing  her  surroundings.  The  many  new  features  ob 
served  in  the  homely,  commonplace  house  in  Butter 
nut  Lane  stirred  her  ambition.  Her  own  room,  to 
be  sure,  possessed  architectural  defects  that  would 
have  discouraged  most  interior  decorators.  It  was 
small  and  dark,  with  only  one  narrow  opening  into 
an  air-shaft.  Where  the  plaster  had  fallen  off,  bare 
laths  were  exposed,  and  in  rainy  weather  a  tin  tub 
occupied  the  center  of  the  floor  to  catch  the  drippings 
from  a  hole  in  the  roof.  For  the  rest,  a  slat  bed, 
an  iron  wash-stand,  and  a  three-legged  chair  com 
prised  the  furniture. 


AMBITION  STIRS  99 

But  Nance  was  not  in  the  least  daunted  by  the 
prospect.  With  considerable  ingenuity  she  evolved 
a  dresser  from  a  soap  box  and  the  colored  supple 
ments  of  the  Sunday  papers,  which  she  gathered  into 
a  valance,  in  imitation  of  Mrs.  Purdy's  bright  chintz. 
In  the  air-shaft  window  she  started  three  potato 
vines  in  bottles,  but  not  satisfied  with  the  feeble  re 
sults,  she  pinned  red  paper  roses  to  the  sickly  white 
stems.  The  nearest  substitutes  she  could  find  for 
pictures  were  labels  off  tomato  cans,  and  these  she 
tacked  up  with  satisfaction,  remembering  Mrs. 
Purdy's  admired  fruit  pictures. 

"  'T  ain't  half  so  dark  in  here  as  't  is  down  in 
Smeltses,"  she  bragged  to  Fidy,  who  viewed  her 
efforts  with  pessimism.  "  Once  last  summer  the 
sun  come  in  here  fer  purty  near  a  week.  It  shined 
down  the  shaft.  You  ast  Lobelia  if  it  did  n't." 

Nance  was  nailing  a  pin  into  the  wall  with  the 
heel  of  her  slipper,  and  the  loose  plaster  was  drop 
ping  behind  the  bed. 

"  Mis'  Purdy  says  if  I  don't  say  no  cuss  words, 
an'  wash  meself  all  over  on  Wednesdays  and 
Sat'days,  she  's  goin'  to  help  me  make  myself  a  new 
dress ! " 

"  Why  don't  she  give  you  one  done  made  ?  "  asked 
Fidy. 

"  She  ain't  no  charity  lady !  "  said  Nance  indig 
nantly.  "  Me  an'  her 's  friends.  She  said  we 
was." 


ioo  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  What 's  she  goin'  to  give  Dan?  "  asked  Fidy,  to 
whom  personages  from  the  upper  world  were  inter 
esting  only  when  they  bore  gifts  in  their  hands. 

"  She  ain't  givin'  him  nothin',  Silly !  She  's  let- 
tin'  him  help  her.  He  gits  a  quarter  a  hour,  an1  his 
dinner  fer  wheelin'  Mr.  Walter  in  the  park." 

"  They  say  Mr.  Jack  's  give  him  a  room  over  the 
saloon  'til  his  maw  comes  back." 

"I  reckon  I  know  it.  I  made  him!  You  jus' 
wait  'til  December  when  Dan  '11  be  fourteen.  Once 
he  gits  to  work  he  won't  have  to  take  nothin'  often 
nobody!" 

School  as  well  as  home  took  on  a  new  interest 
under  Mrs.  Purdy's  influence.  Shoes  and  text 
books  appeared  almost  miraculously,  and  reports  as 
sumed  a  new  and  exciting  significance.  Under  this 
new  arrangement  Dan  blossomed  into  a  model  of 
righteousness,  but  Nance's  lapses  from  grace  were 
still  frequent.  The  occasional  glimpses  she  was  get 
ting  of  a  code  of  manners  and  morals  so  different 
from  those  employed  by  her  stepmother,  were  not  of 
themselves  sufficient  to  reclaim  her.  On  the  whole 
she  found  being  good  rather  stupid  and  only  con 
sented  to  conform  to  rules  when  she  saw  for  herself 
the  benefit  to  be  gained. 

For  instance,  when  she  achieved  a  burning  desire 
to  be  on  the  honor  roll  and  failed  on  account  of 
being  kept  at  home,  she  took  the  matter  into  her  own 
small  hands  and  reported  herself  to  the  once  de- 


AMBITION  STIRS  101 

spised  truant  officer.  The  result  was  a  stormy 
interview  between  him  and  her  stepmother  which 
removed  all  further  cause  of  jealousy  on  the  part  of 
Mr.  Snawdor,  and  gave  Nance  a  record  for  perfect 
attendance. 

Having  attained  this  distinction,  she  was  fired  to 
further  effort.  She  could  soon  glibly  say  the  multi 
plication  tables  backward,  repeat  all  the  verses  in 
her  school  reader,  and  give  the  names  and  length  of 
the  most  important  rivers  in  the  world.  On  two 
occasions  she  even  stepped  into  prominence.  The 
first  was  when  she  electrified  a  visiting  trustee  by  her 
intimate  knowledge  of  the  archipelagos  of  the  east 
ern  hemisphere.  The  fact  that  she  had  not  the  re 
motest  idea  of  the  nature  of  an  archipelago  was 
mercifully  not  divulged.  The  second  had  been  less 
successful.  It  was  during  a  visit  of  Bishop  Eland's 
to  the  school.  He  was  making  a  personal  investiga 
tion  concerning  a  report,  then  current,  that  public 
school  children  were  underfed.  Bishop  Bland  was 
not  fond  of  children,  but  he  was  sensitive  to  any 
slight  put  upon  the  stomach,  and  he  wished  very 
much  to  be  able  to  refute  the  disturbing  rumor. 

"  Now  I  cannot  believe,"  he  said  to  the  sixth 
grade,  clasping  his  plump  hands  over  the  visible 
result  of  many  good  dinners,  "  that  any  one  of  you 
nice  boys  and  girls  came  here  this  morning  hungry. 
I  want  any  boy  in  the  room  who  is  not  properly 
nourished  at  home  to  stand  up." 


102  CALVARY  ALLEY 

Nobody  rose,  and  the  bishop  cast  an  affirmative 
smile  on  the  principal. 

"  As  I  thought,"  he  continued  complacently. 
"  Now  I  'm  going  to  ask  any  little  girl  in  this  room 
to  stand  up  and  tell  us  just  exactly  what  she  had  for 
breakfast  I  shall  not  be  in  the  least  surprised  if  it 
was  just  about  what  I  had  myself." 

There  was  a  silence,  and  it  began  to  look  as  if 
nobody  was  going  to  call  the  bishop's  bluff,  when 
Nance  jumped  up  from  a  rear  seat  and  said  at  the 
top  of  her  voice: 

"  A  pretzel  and  a  dill  pickle !  " 

The  new-found  enthusiasm  for  school  might  have 
been  of  longer  duration  had  it  not  been  for  a  counter- 
attraction  at  home.  From  that  first  night  when  old 
"  Mr.  Demry,"  as  he  had  come  to  be  called,  had 
played  for  her  to  dance,  Nance  had  camped  on  his 
•  door-step.  Whenever  the  scrape  of  his  fiddle  was 
heard  from  below,  she  dropped  whatever  she  held, 
whether  it  was  a  hot  iron  or  the  baby,  and  never 
stopped  until  she  reached  the  ground  floor.  And  by 
and  by  other  children  found  their  way  to  him,  not 
only  the  children  of  the  tenement,  but  of  the  whole 
neighborhood  as  well.  It  was  soon  noised  abroad 
that  he  knew  how  to  coax  the  fairies  out  of  the 
woods  and  actually  into  the  shadows  of  Calvary 
Alley  where  they  had  never  been  heard  of  before. 
With  one  or  two  children  on  his  knees  and  a  circle 
on  the  floor  around  him,  he  would  weave  a  world 


AMBITION  STIRS  103 

of  dream  and  rainbows,  and  people  it  with  all  the 
dear  invisible  deities  of  childhood.  And  while  he 
talked,  his  thin  cheeks  would  flush,  and  his  dim  eyes 
shine  with  the  same  round  wonder  as  his  listeners. 

But  some  nights  when  the  children  came,  they 
found  him  too  sleepy  to  tell  stories  or  play  on  the 
fiddle.  At  such  times  he  always  emptied  his  pockets 
of  small  coins  and  sent  the  youngsters  scampering 
away  to  find  the  pop-corn  man.  Then  he  would 
stand  unsteadily  at  the  door  and  watch  them  go,  with 
a  wistful,  disappointed  look  on  his  tired  old  face. 

Nance  overheard  her  elders  whispering  that  "  he 
took  something,"  and  she  greatly  feared  that  he 
would  meet  a  fate  similar  to  that  of  Joe  Smelts.  In 
Joe's  case  it  was  an  overcoat,  and  he  had  been 
forced  to  accept  the  hospitality  of  the  State  for 
thirty  days.  Nance's  mind  was  greatly  relieved  to 
find  that  it  was  only  powders  that  Mr.  Demry  took 
—  powders  that  made  him  walk  queer  and  talk  queer 
and  forget  sometimes  where  he  lived.  Then  it  was 
that  the  children  accepted  him  as  their  special 
charge.  They  would  go  to  his  rescue  wherever  they 
found  him  and  guide  his  wandering  footsteps  into 
the  haven  of  Calvary  Alley. 

"  He  's  a  has-benn,"  Mrs.  Snawdor  declared  to 
Uncle  Jed.  "  You  an'  me  are  never-wases,  but  that 
old  gent  has  seen  better  days.  They  tell  me  that 
settin'  down  in  the  orchestry,  he  looks  fine.  That 's 
the  reason  his  coat 's  always  so  much  better  'n  his 


104  CALVARY  ALLEY 

shoes  an'  pants;  he  dresses  up  the  part  of  him  that 
shows.  You  can  tell  by  the  way  he  acts  an'  talks 
that  he  's  different  from  us." 

Perhaps  that  was  the  reason,  that  while  Nance 
loved  Uncle  Jed  quite  as  much,  she  found  Mr. 
Demry  far  more  interesting.  Everything  about  him 
was  different,  from  his  ideas  concerning  the  proper 
behavior  of  boys  and  girls,  to  his  few  neatly  dis 
tributed  belongings.  His  two  possessions  that  most 
excited  her  curiosity  and  admiration,  were  the  violin 
and  its  handsome  old  rosewood  case,  which  you  were 
not  allowed  to  touch,  and  a  miniature  in  a  frame  of 
gold,  of  a  beautiful  pink  and  white  girl  in  a  pink 
and  white  dress,  with  a  fair  curl  falling  over  her 
bare  shoulder.  Nance  would  stand  before  the  lat 
ter  in  adoring  silence;  then  she  would  invariably 
say: 

"  Go  on  an'  tell  me  about  her,  Mr.  Demry !  " 

And  standing  behind  her,  with  his  fine  sensitive 
hands  on  her  shoulders,  Mr.  Demry  would  tell  won 
derful  stories  of  the  little  girl  who  had  once  been 
his.  And  as  he  talked,  the  delicate  profile  in  the  pic 
ture  became  an  enchanting  reality  to  Nance,  stirring 
her  imagination  and  furnishing  an  object  for  her 
secret  dreams. 

Hitherto  Birdie  Smelts  had  been  her  chief  ad 
miration.  Birdie  was  fourteen  and  wore  French 
heels  and  a  pompadour  and  had  beaux.  She  had 
worked  in  the  ten-cent  store  until  her  misplaced  gen- 


AMBITION  STIRS  105 

erosity  with  the  glass  beads  on  her  counter  resulted 
in  her  being  sent  to  a  reformatory.  But  Birdie's 
bold  attractions  suffered  in  comparison  with  the  elu 
sive  charm  of  the  pink  and  white  goddess  with  the 
golden  curl. 

This  change  marked  the  dawn  of  romance  in 
Nance's  soul.  Up  to  this  time  she  had  demanded 
of  Mr.  Demry  the  most  "  scareful  "  stories  he  knew, 
but  from  now  on  Blue  Beard  and  Jack,  the  Giant- 
Killer  had  to  make  way  for  Cinderella  and  the 
Sleeping  Beauty.  She  went  about  with  her  head 
full  of  dreams,  and  eyes  that  looked  into  an  invis 
ible  world.  It  was  not  that  the  juvenile  politics  of 
the  alley  were  less  interesting,  or  the  street  rights  or 
adventures  of  the  gang  less  thrilling.  It  was  sim 
ply  that  life  had  become  absorbingly  full  of  other 
things. 

As  the  months  passed  Mrs.  Snawdor  spent  less 
and  less  time  at  home.  She  seemed  to  think  that 
when  she  gave  her  nights  on  her  knees  for  her 
family,  she  was  entitled  to  use  the  remaining  wak 
ing  hours  for  recreation.  This  took  the  form  of 
untiring  attention  to  other  people's  business.  She 
canvassed  the  alley  for  delinquent  husbands  to  ad 
monish,  for  weddings  to  arrange,  for  funerals  to 
supervise  —  the  last  being  a  specialty,  owing  to  ex 
perience  under  the  late  Mr.  Yager. 

Upon  one  of  the  occasions  when  she  was  superin 
tending  the  entrance  of  a  neighboring  baby  into  the 


io6  CALVARY  ALLEY 

world,  her  own  made  a  hurried  exit.  A  banana  and 
a  stick  of  licorice  proved  too  stimulating  a  diet  for 
him,  and  he  closed  his  eyes  permanently  on  a  world 
that  had  offered  few  attractions. 

It  was  Nance  who,  having  mothered  him  from  his 
birth,  worked  with  him  through  the  long  night  of 
agony;  and  who,  when  the  end  came,  cut  the  faded 
cotton  flowers  from  her  hat  to  put  in  the  tiny  claw- 
like  hand  that  had  never  touched  a  real  blossom; 
and  it  was  Nance's  heart  that  broke  when  they  took 
him  away. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  any  abstract  moral  appeal 
could  have  awakened  her  as  did  the  going  out  of 
that  little  futile  life.  It  stirred  her  deepest  sympa 
thies  and  affections,  and  connected  her  for  the  first 
time  with  the  forces  that  make  for  moral  and  social 
progress. 

"  He  would  n't  a-went  if  we  'd  treated  him 
right !  "  she  complained  bitterly  to  Mr.  Snawdor  a 
week  later.  "  He  never  had  no  sunshine,  nor  fresh 
air,  nor  nothin'.  You  can't  expect  a  baby  to  live 
where  a  sweet-potato  vine  can't !  " 

"  He  's  better  off  than  me,"  said  Mr.  Snawdor, 
"  what  with  the  funeral,  an'  the  coal  out,  an'  the  rent 
due,  I  'm  at  the  end  of  my  rope.  I  told  her  it  was 
comin'.  But  she  would  have  a  white  coffin  an'  six 
hacks.  They  '11  have  to  set  us  out  in  the  street  fer 
all  I  can  see!  " 

Nance  looked  at  him  apprehensively. 


AMBITION  STIRS  107 

"  Well,  we  better  be  doin'  somethin'/'  she  said. 
"Can't  Uncle  Jed  help  us?" 

"  I  ain't  goin'  to  let  him.  He 's  paid  my  rent  fer 
the  last  time.'' 

This  unexpected  flare  of  independence  in  Mr. 
Snavvdor  was  disturbing.  The  Snawdor  family 
without  Uncle  Jed  was  like  a  row  of  stitches 
from  which  the  knitting  needle  has  been  with 
drawn. 

"  If  I  was  two  years  older,  I  could  go  to  work," 
said  Nance,  thinking  of  Dan,  who  was  now  on  the 
pay-roll  of  Clarke's  Bottle  Factory. 

"  It  ain't  right  to  make  you  stop  school,"  said 
Mr.  Snawdor.  "  It  ain't  bein'  fair  to  you." 

"  I  'd  do  it  all  right,"  said  Nance,  fired  by  his 
magnanimity,  "  only  they  're  on  to  me  now  I  've 
reported  myself.  Ain't  you  makin'  any  money  at 
the  shop?" 

Mr.  Snawdor  shook  his  head. 

"  I  might  if  I  was  willin'  to  buy  junk.  But  you 
know  where  them  boys  gets  their  stuff." 

Nance  nodded  wisely. 

"  The  gang  bust  into  a  empty  house  last  night 
an'  cut  out  all  the  lead  pipes.  I  seen  'em  comin' 
home  with  it." 

Mr.  Snawdor  rose  and  went  to  the  window. 

"  There  ain't  no  chance  fer  a  honest  man,"  he 
said  miserably.  "  I  'm  sick  o'  livin',  that 's  whut 
I  am.  I  am  ready  to  quit." 


io8  CALVARY  ALLEY 

When  Mrs.  Snawdor  arrived,  she  swept  all  do 
mestic  problems  impatiently  aside. 

"  Fer  goodness'  sake  don't  come  tellin'  me  no 
more  hard-luck  tales.  Ain't  I  got  troubles  enough 
of  my  own  ?  Nance,  soon  's  you  git  through,  go  git 
me  a  bucket  of  beer,  an'  if  you  see  any  of  the  Ger 
mans,  say  I  '11  stop  in  this  evenin'  on  my  way  to 
work." 

"  I  ain't  goin'  fer  the  beer  no  more,"  announced 
Nance. 

"  An'  will  ye  tell  me  why?  "  asked  Mrs.  Snawdor. 

"  'Cause  I  ain't,"  said  Nance,  knowing  the  futil 
ity  of  argument. 

Mrs.  Snawdor  lifted  her  hand  to  strike,  but 
changed  her  mind.  She  was  beginning  to  have  a 
certain  puzzled  respect  for  her  stepdaughter's  de 
cision  of  character. 

After  the  children  had  been  put  to  bed  and  Nance 
had  cried  over  the  smallest  nightgown,  no  longer 
needed,  she  slipped  down  to  the  second  floor  and, 
pausing  before  the  door  behind  which  the  sewing- 
machines  were  always  whirring,  gave  a  peculiar 
whistle.  It  was  a  whistle  possible  only  to  a  person 
who  boasted  the  absence  of  a  front  tooth,  and  it 
brought  Ike  Lavinski  promptly  to  the  door. 

Ikey  was  a  friend  whom  she  regarded  with  min 
gled  contempt  and  admiration  —  contempt  because 
he  was  weak  and  undersized,  admiration  because  he 
was  the  only  person  of  her  acquaintance  who  had 


AMBITION  STIRS  109 

ever  had  his  name  in  the  newspaper.  On  two  occa 
sions  he  had  been  among  the  honor  students  at  the 
high  school,  and  his  family  and  neighbors  regarded 
him  as  an  intellectual  prodigy. 

"  Say,  Ikey,"  said  Nance,  "  if  you  was  me,  an' 
had  to  make  some  money,  an'  did  n't  want  to  chuck 
school,  what  would  you  do  ?  " 

Ikey  considered  the  matter.  Money  and  educa 
tion  were  the  most  important  things  in  the  world 
to  him,  and-  were  not  to  be  discussed  lightly. 

"If  you  were  bigger,"  he  said,  sweeping  her  with 
a  critical  eye,  "  you  might  try  sewing  pants." 

"  Could  I  do  it  at  night  ?  How  much  would  it 
pay  me?  Would  yer  pa  take  me  on?  "  Nance  de 
manded  all  in  a  breath. 

"  He  would  if  he  thought  they  would  n't  get  on 
to  it." 

"  I'd  keep  it  dark,"  Nance  urged.  "  I  could  slip 
down  every  night  after  I  git  done  my  work,  an'  put 
in  a  couple  of  hours,  easy.  I  'm  a  awful  big  child 
f er  my  age  —  feel  my  muscle !  Go  on  an'  make 
him  take  me  on,  Ikey,  will  you  ?  " 

And  Ikey  condescendingly  agreed  to  use  his  in 
fluence. 


CHAPTER  IX 

BUTTONS 

THE  Lavinskis'  flat  on  the  second  floor  had  al 
ways  possessed  a  mysterious  fascination  for 
Nance.  In  and  out  of  the  other  flats  she  passed 
at  will,  but  she  had  never  seen  beyond  the  half- 
open  door  of  the  Lavinskis'.  All  day  and  far  into 
the  night,  the  sewing-machines  ran  at  high  pres 
sure,  and  Mr.  Lavinski  shuffled  in  and  out  carry 
ing  huge  piles  of  pants  on  his  head.  The  other  ten 
ants  stopped  on  the  stairs  to  exchange  civilities  or 
incivilities  with  equal  warmth;  they  hung  out  of 
windows  or  dawdled  sociably  in  doorways.  But 
summer  and  winter  alike  the  Lavinskis  herded  be 
hind  closed  doors  and  ran  their  everlasting  sewing- 
machines. 

Mrs.  Snawdor  gave  her  ready  consent  to  Nance 
trying  her  hand  as  a  "  home  finisher." 

"  We  got  to  git  money  from  somewheres,"  she 
said,  "  an'  I  always  did  want  to  know  how  them 
Polocks  live.  But  don't  you  let  on  to  your  Uncle 
Jed  what  you  're  doing." 

"  I  ain't  goin'  to  let  on  to  nobody,"  said  Nance, 
thrilled  with  the  secrecy  of  the  affair. 

no 


BUTTONS  in 

The  stifling  room  into  which  Ikey  introduced  her 
that  night  was  supposed  to  be  the  Lavinskis'  kitchen, 
but  it  was  evident  that  the  poor  room  had  long  ago 
abandoned  all  notions  of  domesticity.  The  tea 
kettle  had  been  crowded  off  the  stove  by  the  press 
ing  irons;  a  wash-tub  full  of  neglected  clothes, 
squeezed  itself  into  a  distant  corner,  and  the  cook 
ing  utensils  had  had  to  go  climbing  up  the  walls 
on  hooks  and  nails  to  make  way  on  the  shelves  for 
sewing  materials. 

On  one  corner  of  the  table,  between  two  towering 
piles  of  pants,  were  the  remains  of  the  last  meal, 
black  bread,  potatoes,  and  pickled  herring.  Under 
two  swinging  kerosene  lamps,  six  women  with 
sleeves  rolled  up  and  necks  bared,  bent  over  whirr 
ing  machines,  while  Mr.  Lavinski  knelt  on  the  floor 
tying  the  finished  garments  into  huge  bundles. 

"  Here  's  Nance  Molloy,  Pa  "  said  Ikey,  raising 
his  voice  above  the  noise  of  the  machines  and  tug 
ging  at  his  father's  sleeve. 

Mr.  Lavinski  pushed  his  derby  hat  further  back 
on  his  perspiring  brow,  and  looked  up.  He  had  a 
dark,  sharp  face,  and  alert  black  eyes,  exactly  like 
Ikey's,  and  a  black  beard  with  two  locks  of  black 
hair  trained  down  in  front  of  his  ears  to  meet  it. 
Without  pausing  in  his  work  he  sized  Nance  up. 

"  I  von't  take  childern  anny  more.  I  tried  it 
many  times  already.  De  inspector  git  me  into  trou 
bles.  It  don't  pay." 


112  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  But  I  '11  dodge  the  inspectors,"  urged  Nance. 

"  You  know  how  to  sew,  eh  ?  " 

"No;  but  you  kin  learn  me.  Please,  Mr.  La- 
vinski,  Ikey  said  you  would." 

Mr.  Lavinski  bestowed  a  doting  glance  on  his 
son. 

"  My  Ikey  said  so,  did  he  ?  He  thinks  he  own 
me,  that  boy.  I  send  him  to  high  school.  I  send 
him  to  Hebrew  class  at  the  synagogue  at  night. 
He  vill  be  big  rich  some  day,  that  boy ;  he  's  got  a 
brain  on  him.'* 

"  Cut  it  out,  Pa,"  said  Ikey.  "  Nance  is  a  smart 
kid;  you  won't  lose  anything  on  her." 

The  result  was  that  Nance  was  accorded  the  priv 
ilege  of  occupying  a  stool  in  the  corner  behind  the 
hot  stove  and  sewing  buttons  on  knee  pantaloons, 
from  eight  until  ten  p.  M.  At  first  the  novelty  of 
working  against  time,  with  a  room  full  of  grown 
people,  and  of  seeing  the  great  stacks  of  unfinished 
garments  change  into  great  stacks  of  finished  ones, 
was  stimulation  in  itself.  She  was  proud  of  her 
cushion  full  of  strong  needles  and  her  spool  of 
coarse  thread.  She  was  pleased  with  the  nods  of 
approval  gentle  Mrs.  Lavinski  gave  her  work  in 
passing,  and  of  the  slight  interest  with  which  she 
was  regarded  by  the  other  workers. 

But  as  the  hours  wore  on,  and  the  air  became 
hotter  and  closer,  and  no  enlivening  conversation 
came  to  relieve  the  strain,  her  interest  began  to 


BUTTONS  113 

wane.  By  nine  o'clock  her  hands  were  sore  and 
stained,  and  her  back  ached.  By  a  quarter  past,  the 
buttons  were  slipping  through  her  fingers,  and  she 
could  not  see  to  thread  her  needle. 

"  You  vill  do  better  to-morrow  night,"  said  Mrs. 
Lavinski  kindly,  in  her  wheezing  voice.  "  I  tell 
Ikey  you  do  verra  good." 

Mrs.  Lavinski  looked  shriveled  and  old.  She 
wore  a  glossy  black  wig  and  long  ear-rings,  and 
when  she  was  not  coughing,  she  smiled  pleasantly 
over  her  work.  Once  Mr.  Lavinski  stopped  press 
ing  long  enough  to  put  a  cushion  at  her  back. 

"  My  Leah  is  a  saint,"  he  said.  "If  effra'boddy 
was  so  good  as  her,  the  Messiah  would  come." 

Nance  dreamed  of  buttons  that  night,  and  by  the 
next  evening  her  ambition  to  become  a  wage-earner 
had  died  completely. 

But  a  family  conclave  at  the  supper  table  revealed 
such  a  crisis  in  the  family  finances  that  she  decided 
to  keep  on  at  the  Lavinskis'  for  another  week.  Un 
cle  Jed  was  laid  up  with  the  rheumatism,  and  Mr. 
Snawdor's  entire  stock  in  trade  had  been  put  in  a 
wheelbarrow  and  dumped  into  the  street,  and  a 
strange  sign  already  replaced  his  old  one  of  "  Bungs 
and  Fawcetts." 

Things  seemed  in  such  a  bad  way  that  Nance  had 
about  decided  to  lay  the  matter  before  Mrs.  Purdy, 
when  Dan  brought  the  disconcerting  news  that  Mrs. 
Purdy  had  taken  her  brother  south  for  the  rest  of 


ii4  CALVARY  ALLEY 

the  winter,  and  that  there  would  be  no  more  visits  to 
the  little  house  in  Butternut  Lane. 

So  Nance,  not  knowing  anything  better  to  do, 
continued  to  sit  night  after  night  on  her  stool  be 
hind  the  hot  stove,  sewing  on  buttons.  Thirty-six 
buttons  meant  four  cents,  four  cents  meant  a  loaf  of 
bread  —  a  stale  loaf,  that  is. 

"  Your  little  fingers  vill  git  ofer  bein'  sore,"  Mrs. 
Lavinski  assured  her.  "I  gif  you  alum  water  to 
put  on  'em.  Dat  makes  'em  hard." 

They  not  only  became  hard;  they  became  quick 
and  accurate,  and  Nance  got  used  to  the  heat  and 
the  smell,  and  she  almost  got  used  to  the  backache. 
It  was  sitting  still  and  being  silent  that  hurt  her 
more  than  anything  else.  Mr.  Lavinski  did  not  en 
courage  conversation, —  it  distracted  the  workers, — 
and  Nance's  exuberance,  which  at  first  found  vent 
in  all  sorts  of  jokes  and  capers,  soon  died  for  lack 
of  encouragement.  She  learned,  instead,  to  use  all 
her  energy  on  buttons  and,  being  denied  verbal  ex 
pression,  she  revolved  many  things  in  her  small 
mind.  The  result  of  her  thinking  was  summed  up 
in  her  speech  to  her  stepmother  at  the  end  of  the 
first  week. 

"  Gee !  I  'm  sick  of  doin'  the  same  thing !  I  ain't 
learnin'  nothin'.  If  anybody  was  smart,  they  could 
make  a  machine  to  put  on  two  times  as  many  but 
tons  as  me  in  half  the  time.  I  want  to  begin  some 
thing  at  the  beginning  and  make  it  clean  through. 


BUTTONS  115 

I  'm  sick  an'  tired  of  buttons.     I  'm  goin'  to  quit !  " 

But  Mrs.  Snawdor  had  come  to  a  belated  realiza 
tion  of  the  depleted  state  of  the  family  treasury  and 
she  urged  Nance  to  keep  on  for  the  present. 

"  We  better  cut  all  the  corners  we  kin,"  she  said, 
"  till  Snawdor  gits  over  this  fit  of  the  dumps. 
Ain't  a  reason  in  the  world  he  don't  go  into  the  junk 
business.  I  ain't  astin'  him  to  drive  aroun'  an'  yell 
'  Old  iron ! '  I  know  that 's  tryin'  on  a  bashful 
man.  All  Last  him  is  to  set  still  an'  let  it  come  to 
him.  Thank  the  Lord,  I  have  known  husbands  that 
was  n't  chicken-hearted !  " 

So  Nance  kept  on  reluctantly,  even  after  Mr. 
Snawdor  got  a  small  job  collecting.  Sometimes 
she  went  to  sleep  over  her  task  and  had  to  be  shaken 
awake,  but  that  was  before  she  began  to  drink  black 
coffee  with  the  other  workers  at  nine  o'clock. 

One  thing  puzzled  her.  When  Ikey  came  from 
night  school,  he  was  never  asked  to  help  in  the 
work,  no  matter  how  much  his  help  was  needed. 
He  was  always  given  the  seat  by  the  table  nearest 
the  lamp,  and  his  father  himself  cleared  a  place  for 
his  books. 

"  Ikey  gits  the  education,"  Mr.  Lavinski  would 
say,  with  a  proud  smile.  "  The  Rabbi  says  he  is  the 
smartest  boy  in  the  class.  He  takes  prizes  over  big 
boys.  Ve  vork  fer  him  now,  an'  some  day  he  make 
big  money  an'  take  care  of  us!  " 

Education  as  seen  through  Mr.  Lavinski's  eyes 


ii6  CALVARY  ALLEY 

took  on  a  new  aspect  for  Nance.  It  seemed  that 
you  did  not  get  rich  by  going  to  work  at  fourteen, 
but  by  staying  at  school  and  in  some  miraculous  way 
skipping  the  factory  altogether.  "  I  vork  with  my 
hands,"  said  Mr.  Lavinski ;  "  my  Ikey,  he  vorks  with 
his  head." 

Nance  fell  into  the  way  of  bringing  her  school 
books  downstairs  at  night  and  getting  Ike  to  help 
her  with  her  lessons.  She  would  prop  the  book  in 
front  of  her  and,  without  lessening  the  speed  of  her 
flying  fingers,  ply  him  with  the  questions  that  had 
puzzled  her  during  the  day. 

"  I  wisht  I  was  smart  as  you !  "  she  said  one  night. 

"  I  reckon  you  do!  "  said  Ike,  "  I  work  for  it." 

"  You  could  n't  work  no  more  'n  whut  I  do !  " 
Nance  said  indignantly. 

"  There  's  a  difference  between  working  and  be 
ing  worked,"  said  Ike,  wisely.  "  If  I  were  you,  I  'd 
look  out  for  number  one." 

"  But  who  would  do  the  cookin'  an'  lookin'  after 
the  kids,  an'  all?" 

"  They  are  nothing  to  you,"  said  Ike ;  "  none  of 
the  bunch  is  kin  to  you.  Catch  me  workin'  for  them 
like  you  do!  " 

Nance  was  puzzled,  but  not  convinced.  Wiser 
heads  than  hers  have  struggled  with  a  similar  prob 
lem  in  vain.  She  kept  steadily  on,  and  it  was  only 
when  the  squeak  of  Mr.  Demry's  fiddle  came  up 
from  below  that  her  ringers  fumbled  and  the  buttons 


BUTTONS  117 

went  rolling  on  the  floor.  Six  nights  in  the  week, 
when  Mr.  Demry  was  in  condition,  he  played  at 
the  theater,  and  on  Sunday  nights  he  stayed  at  home 
and  received  his  young  friends.  On  these  occa 
sions  Nance  became  so  restless  that  she  could 
scarcely  keep  her  prancing  feet  on  the  floor.  She 
would  hook  them  resolutely  around  the  legs  of  the 
stool  and  even  sit  on  them  one  at  a  time,  but  despite 
all  her  efforts,  they  would  respond  to  the  rhythmic 
notes  below .- 

"  Them  tunes  just  make  me  dance  settin'  down," 
she  declared,  trying  to  suit  the  action  to  the  words. 

Sometimes  on  a  rainy  afternoon  when  nobody 
was  being  born,  or  getting  married,  or  dying,  Mrs. 
Snawdor  stayed  at  home.  At  such  times  Nance 
seized  the  opportunity  to  shift  her  domestic  burden. 

There  was  a  cheap  theater,  called  "  The  Star," 
around  the  corner,  where  a  noisy  crowd  of  boys  and 
girls  could  always  be  found  in  the  gallery.  It  was 
a  place  where  you  ate  peanuts  and  dropped  the 
shells  on  the  heads  of  people  below,  where  you 
scrapped  for  your  seat  and  joined  in  the  chorus  and 
shrieked  over  the  antics  of  an  Irishman,  a  darkey, 
or  a  Jew.  But  it  was  a  luxury  seldom  indulged  in, 
for  it  cost  the  frightful  sum  of  ten  cents,  not  includ 
ing  the  peanuts. 

For  the  most  part  Nance's  leisure  half -hours 
were  spent  with  Mr.  Demry,  discussing  a  most  ex 
citing  project.  He  was  contemplating  the  unheard- 


iiS  CALVARY  ALLEY 

of  festivity  of  a  Christmas  party,  and  the  whole 
alley  was  buzzing  with  it.  Even  the  big  boys  in 
Dan's  gang  were  going  to  take  part.  There  were 
to  be  pirates  and  fairies  and  ogres,  and  Nance  was 
to  be  the  princess  and  do  a  fancy  dance  in  a  petti 
coat  trimmed  with  silver  paper,  and  wear  a  tinsel 
crown. 

Scrubbing  the  floor,  figuring  on  the  blackboard, 
washing  dishes,  or  sewing  on  buttons,  she  was 
aware  of  that  tinsel  crown.  For  one  magic  night  it 
was  going  to  transform  her  into  a  veritable  princess, 
and  who  knew  but  that  a  prince  in  doublet  and  hose 
and  sweeping  plume  might  arrive  to  claim  her? 
But  when  Nance's  imagination  \vas  called  upon  to 
visualize  the  prince,  a  hateful  image  came  to  her  of 
a  tall,  slender  boy,  clad  in  white,  with  a  contemptu 
ous  look  in  his  handsome  brown  eyes. 

"  I  don't  know  what  ails  Nance  these  days,"  Mrs. 
Snawdor  complained  to  Uncle  Jed.  "  She  sasses 
back  if  you  look  at  her,  an'  fergits  ever'thing,  an' 
Snawdor  says  she  mutters  an'  jabbers  something 
awful  in  her  sleep." 

"  Seems  to  me  she  works  too  hard,"  said  Uncle 
Jed,  still  ignorant  of  her  extra  two  hours  in  the 
sweat-shop.  "  A  growin'  girl  ought  n't  to  be  doin' 
heavy  washin'  an'  carryin'  water  an'  coal  up  two 
flights." 

"  Why,  Nance  is  strong  as  a  ox,"  Mrs.  Snawdor 


BUTTONS  119 

insisted,  "  an'  as  f  er  eatin' !  Why  it  looks  like  she 
never  can  git  filled  up." 

"  Well,  what  ails  her  then  ?  "  persisted  Uncle  Jed. 

"  I  bet  I  know ! "  said  Mrs.  Snawdor  darkly. 
"  It 's  that  there  vaccination.  Las'  time  I  hid  the 
other  childern  from  the  inspector  she  had  to  come 
out  an'  argue  with  him  fer  herself.  She  got  paid 
up  proper  fer  givin'  in  to  him.  Her  arm  was  a 
plumb  sight." 

"  Do  you- suppose  it 's  the  poison  still  workin'  on 
her  ?  "  Uncle  Jed  asked,  watching  Nance  in  the  next 
room  as  she  lifted  a  boiler  filled  with  the  washing 
water  from  the  stove. 

"Why,  of  course,  it  is!  Talk  to  me  about  yer 
State  rules  an'  regerlations !  It  does  look  like  us 
poor  people  has  got  troubles  enough  already,  with 
out  rich  folks  layin'  awake  nights  studyin'  up  what 
they  can  do  to  us  next." 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   PRINCESS    COMES   TO   GRIEF 

And  bring  her  rose-winged  fancies, 

From  shadowy  shoals  of  dream 

To  clothe  her  in  the  wistful  hour 

When  girlhood  steals  from  bud  to  flower;  , 

Bring  her  the  tunes  of  elfin  dances, 

Bring  her  the  faery  Gleam. —  BURKE. 

CHRISTMAS  fell  on  a  Saturday  and  a  pay 
day,  and  this,  together  with  Mr.  Demry's 
party,  accounts  for  the  fact  that  the  holiday  spirit, 
which  sometimes  limps  a  trifle  languidly  past  tene 
ment  doors,  swaggered  with  unusual  gaiety  this 
year  in  Calvary  Alley.  You  could  hear  it  in  the 
cathedral  chimes  which  began  at  dawn,  in  the  ex 
plosion  of  fire-crackers,  in  the  bursts  of  noisy  laugh 
ter  from  behind  swinging  doors.  You  could  smell 
it  in  the  whiffs  of  things  frying,  broiling,  burning. 
You  could  feel  it  in  the  crisp  air,  in  the  crunch  of 
the  snow  under  your  feet,  and  most  of  all  you  could 
see  it  in  the  happy,  expectant  faces  of  the  children, 
who  rushed  in  and  out  in  a  fever  of  excitement. 

Early  in  the  afternoon   Nance   Molloy,   with  a 
drab-colored  shawl  over  her  head  and  something 

120 


THE  PRINCESS  COMES  TO  GRIEF      121 

tightly  clasped  in  one  bare,  chapped  fist,  rushed 
forth  on  a  mysterious  mission.  When  she  returned, 
she  carried  a  pasteboard  box  hugged  to  her  heart. 
The  thought  of  tripping  her  fairy  measure  in  worn- 
out  shoes  tied  on  with  strings,  had  become  so  in 
tolerable  to  her  that  she  had  bartered  her  holiday 
for  a  pair  of  white  slippers.  Mr.  Lavinski  had  ad 
vanced  the  money,  and  she  was  to  work  six  hours 
a  day,  instead  of  two,  until  she  paid  the  money  back. 

But  she'  was  in  no  mood  to  reckon  the  cost,  as 
she  prepared  for  the  evening  festivities.  So  great 
was  her  energy  and  enthusiasm,  that  the  contagion 
spread  to  the  little  Snawdors,  each  of  whom  sub 
mitted  with  unprecedented  meekness  to  a  "  wash  all 
over."  Nance  dressed  herself  last,  wrapping  her 
white  feet  and  legs  in  paper  to  keep  them  clean  un 
til  the  great  hour  should  arrive. 

"  Why,  Nance  Molloy !  You  look  downright 
purty !  "  Mrs.  Snawdor  exclaimed,  when  she  came 
up  after  assisting  Mr.  Demry  with  his  refreshments. 
"  I  never  would  'a'  believed  it!  " 

Nance  laughed  happily.  The  effect  had  been 
achieved  by  much  experimenting  before  the  little 
mirror  over  her  soap  box.  The  mirror  had  a  wave 
in  it  which  gave  the  beholder  two  noses,  but  Nance 
had  kept  her  pink  and  white  ideal  steadily  in  mind, 
and  the  result  was  a  golden  curl  over  a  bare  shoul 
der.  The  curl  would  have  been  longer  had  not  half 
of  it  remained  in  a  burnt  wisp  around  the  poker. 


122  CALVARY  ALLEY 

But  such  petty  catastrophes  have  no  place  in  a 
heart  overflowing  with  joy.  Nance  did  not  even 
try  to  keep  her  twinkling  feet  from  dancing;  she 
danced  through  the  table-setting  and  through  the 
dish-washing,  and  between  times  she  pressed  her 
face  to  the  dirty  pane  of  the  front  window  to  see 
if  the  hands  on  the  big  cathedral  clock  were  getting 
any  nearer  to  five. 

"  They  're  goin'  to  have  Christmas  doin's  over  to' 
the    cathedral,    too,"    she    cried    excitedly.     "  The 
boards  is  off  the  new  window,  an'  it 's  jus'  like  the 
old  one,  an'  ever'thing  's  lit  up,  an'  it 's  snowin'  like 
ever'thing ! " 

Mr.  Demry's  party  was  to  take  place  between  the 
time  he  came  home  from  the  matinee  and  the  time 
he  returned  for  the  evening  performance.  Long  be 
fore  the  hour  appointed,  his  guests  began  to  arrive, 
dirty-faced  and  clean,  fat  and  thin,  tidy  and  ragged, 
big  and  little,  but  all  wearing  in  their  eyes  that  gift 
of  nature  to  the  most  sordid  youth,  the  gift  of  ex 
pectancy.  There  were  fairies  and  ogres  and  pirates 
and  Indians  in  costumes  that  needed  only  the  proper 
imagination  to  make  them  convincing.  If  by  any 
chance  a  wistful  urchin  arrived  in  his  rags  alone, 
Mr.  Demry  promptly  evolved  a  cocked  hat  from  a 
newspaper,  and  a  sword  from  a  box  top,  and  trans 
formed  him  into  a  prancing  knight. 

The  children  had  been  to  Sunday-school  enter 
tainments  where  they  had  sat  in  prim  rows  and 


THE  PRINCESS  COMES  TO  GRIEF      123 

watched  grown  people  have  all  the  fun  of  fixing  the 
tree  and  distributing  the  presents,  but  for  most  of 
them  this  was  the  first  Christmas  that  they  had 
actually  helped  to  make.  Every  link  in  the  colored 
paper  garlands  was  a  matter  of  pride  to  some  one. 

What  the  children  had  left  undone,  Mr.  Demry 
had  finished.  All  the  movables  had  been  put  out  of 
sight  as  if  they  were  never  to  be  wanted  again. 
From  the  ceiling  swung  two  glowing  paper  lanterns 
that  threw  soft,  mysterious,  dancing  lights  on  things. 
In  the  big  fireplace  a  huge  fire  crackled  and  roared, 
and  on  the  shelf  above  it  were  stacks  of  golden 
oranges,  and  piles  of  fat,  brown  doughnuts.  Across 
one  corner,  on  a  stout  cord,  hung  some  green 
branches  with  small  candles  twinkling  above  them. 
It  was  not  exactly  a  Christmas  tree,  but  it  had  evi 
dently  fooled  Santa  Claus,  for  on  every  branch  hung 
a  trinket  or  a  toy  for  somebody. 

And  nobody  thought,  least  of  all  Mr.  Demry,  of 
how  many  squeaks  of  the  old  fiddle  had  gone  into 
the  making  of  this  party,  of  the  bread  and  meat  that 
had  gone  into  the  oranges  and  doughnuts,  of  the 
fires  that  should  have  warmed  Mr.  Demry's  chilled 
old  bones  for  weeks  to  come,  that  went  roaring  up 
the  wide  chimney  in  one  glorious  burst  of  prodigal- 
ity. 

When  the  party  was  in  full  swing  and  the  ex 
citement  was  at  its  highest,  the  guests  were  seated 
on  the  floor  in  a  double  row,  and  Mr.  Demry  took 


124  CALVARY  ALLEY 

his  stand  by  the  fireplace,  with  his  fiddle  under  his 
chin,  and  began  tuning  up. 

Out  in  the  dark  hall,  in  quivering  expectancy, 
stood  the  princess,  shivering  with  impatience  as  she 
waited  for  Dan  to  fling  open  the  door  for  her  tri 
umphant  entrance.  Every  twang  of  the  violin 
strings  vibrated  in  her  heart,  and  she  could  scarcely 
wait  for  the  signal.  It  was  the  magic  moment  when 
buttons  ceased  to  exist  and  tinsel  crowns  became  a 
reality. 

The  hall  was  dark  and  very  cold,  and  the  snow 
drifting  in  made  a  white  patch  on  the  threshold. 
Nance,  steadying  her  crown  against  the  icy  draught, 
lifted  her  head  suddenly  and  listened.  From  the 
room  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  hall  came  a  wom 
an's  frightened  cry,  followed  by  the  sound  of  break 
ing  furniture.  The  next  instant  the  door  was  flung 
open,  and  Mrs.  Smelts,  with  her  baby  in  her  arms, 
rushed  forth.  Close  behind  her  rolled  Mr.  Smelts, 
his  shifted  ballast  of  Christmas  cheer  threatening 
each  moment  to  capsize  him. 

"  I  '11  learn  ye  to  stop  puttin'  cures  in  my  coffee !  " 
he  bellowed.  "  Spoilin'  me  taste  fer  liquor,  are  ye? 
I'll  learn  ye!" 

"  I  never  meant  no  harm,  Jim,"  quailed  Mrs. 
Smelts,  cowering  in  the  corner  with  one  arm  up 
raised  to  shield  the  baby.  "  I  seen  the  ad  in  the 
paper.  It  claimed  to  be  a  whisky-cure.  Don't  hit 
me,  Jim  —  don't-  But  before  she  could  finish, 


THE  PRINCESS  COMES  TO  GRIEF      125 

Mr.  Smelts  had  struck  her  full  in  the  face  with  a 
brutal  fist  and  had  raised  his  arm  to  strike  again. 
But  the  blow  never  fell. 

The  quick  blood  that  had  made  Phil  Molloy  one 
of  the  heroes  of  Chickasaw  Bluffs  rose  in  the  veins 
of  his  small  granddaughter,  and  she  suddenly  saw 
red.  Had  Jim  Smelts  been  twice  the  size  he  was, 
she  would  have  sprung  at  him  just  the  same  and 
rained  blow  after  stinging  blow  upon  his  befuddled 
head  with  her  slender  fairy  wand. 

"  Git  up  the  steps!  "  she  shrieked  to  Mrs.  Smelts. 
"  Fer  God's  sake  git  out  of  his  way!  Dan!  Dan 
Lewis!  Help!  Help!" 

Mr.  Smelts,  infuriated  at  the  interference,  had 
pinioned  Nance's  arms  behind  her  and  was  about 
to  beat  her  crowned  head  against  the  wall  when 
Dan  rushed  into  the  hall. 

"  Throw  him  out  the  front  door ! "  screamed 
Nance.  "  Help  me  push  him  down  the  steps !  " 

Mr.  Smelts1  resistance  was  fierce,  but  brief.  His 
legs  were  much  drunker  than  his  arms,  and  when 
the  two  determined  youngsters  flung  themselves 
upon  him  and  shoved  him  out  of  the  door,  he  lost 
his  balance  and  fell  headlong  to  the  street  below. 

By  this  time  the  party  had  swarmed  into  the  hall 
and  out  on  the  steps  and  Mr.  Demry's  gentle,  fright 
ened  face  could  be  seen  peering  over  their  decorated 
heads.  The  uproar  had  brought  other  tenants 
scurrying  from  the  upper  floors,  and  somebody  was 


126  CALVARY  ALLEY 

dispatched  for  a  police.  Dense  and  denser  grew 
the  crowd,  and  questions,  excuses,  accusations  were 
heard  on  every  side. 

"  They  've  done  killed  him,"  wailed  a  woman's 
voice  above  the  other  noises.  It  was  Mrs.  Smelts 
who,  with  all  the  abandonment  of  a  bereft  widow, 
cast  herself  beside  the  huddled  figure  lying  motion 
less  in  the  snow. 

"  What 's  all  this  row  about  ?  "  demanded  Cock 
eye,  forcing  his  way  to  the  front  and  assuming  an 
air  of  stern  authority. 

"  They  've  killed  my  Jim !  "  wailed  Mrs.  Smelts. 
"  I  'm  goin'  to  have  the  law  on  'em!  " 

The  policeman,  with  an  impolite  request  that  she 
stop  that  there  caterwauling,  knelt  on  the  wet  pave 
ment  and  made  a  hasty  diagnosis  of  the  case. 

"  Leg 's  broke,  and  head 's  caved  in  a  bit. 
That 's  all  I  can  see  is  the  matter  of  him.  \Yho 
beat  him  up?" 

"  Him  an'  her!  "  accused  Mrs.  Smelts  hysterically, 
pointing  to  Dan  and  Nance,  who  stood  shivering  be 
side  Mr.  Demry  on  the  top  step. 

"  Well,  I  '11  be  hanged  if  them  ain't  the  same  two 
that  was  had  up  last  summer !  "  said  the  policeman 
in  profound  disgust.  "  It 's  good-by  fer  them  all 
right." 

"  But  we  was  helpin'  Mis'  Smelts !  "  cried  Nance 
in  bewilderment.  "  He  was  beatin'  her.  He  was 
goin'  to  hit  the  baby  — 


THE  PRINCESS  COMES  TO  GRIEF      127 

"  Here  comes  the  Black  Maria !  "  yelled  an  emis 
sary  from  the  corner,  and  the  crowd  parted  as  the 
long,  narrow,  black  patrol-wagon  clanged  noisily 
into  the  narrow  court. 

Mr.  Smelts  was  lifted  in,  none  too  gently,  and 
as  he  showed  no  signs  of  returning  consciousness, 
Cock-eye  paused  irresolute  and  looked  at  Dan. 

"  You  best  be  comin'  along,  too,"  he  said  with 
sudden  decision.  "  The  bloke  may  be  hurt  worse  'rn 
I  think.  - "  I  '11  just  drop  you  at  the  detention  home 
'til  over  Sunday." 

"  You  shan't  take  Dan  Lewis ! "  cried  Nance  in 
instant  alarm.  "  He  was  helpin'  me,  I  tell  you ! 
He  ain't  done  nothin'  bad — "  Then  as  Dan  was 
hustled  down  the  steps  and  into  the  wagon,  she  lost 
her  head  completely.  Regardless  of  consequences, 
she  hurled  herself  upon  the  law.  She  bit  it  and 
scratched  it  and  even  spat  upon  it. 

Had  Mrs.  Snawdor  or  Uncle  Jed  been  there,  the 
catastrophe  would  never  have  happened;  but  Mrs. 
Snawdor  was  at  the  post-office,  and  Uncle  Jed  at  the 
signal  tower,  and  the  feeble  protests  of  Mr.  Demry 
were  as  futile  as  the  twittering  of  a  sparrow. 

"  I  '11  fix  you,  you  little  spitfire!  "  cried  the  irate 
officer,  holding  her  hands  and  lifting  her  into  the 
wagon.  "  Some  of  you  women  put  a  cloak  around 
her,  and  be  quick  about  it." 

Nance,  refusing  to  be  wrapped  up,  continued  to 
fight  savagely. 


128  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  I  ain't  goin'  in  the  hurry-up  wagon ! "  she 
screamed.  "  I  ain't  done  nothin'  bad !  Let  go  my 

hands !" 

/ 

But  the  wagon  was  already  moving  out  of  the 
alley,  and  Nance  suddenly  ceased  to  struggle.  An 
accidental  combination  of  circumstances,  too  com 
plicated  and  overwhelming  to  be  coped  with,  was 
hurrying  her  away  to  some  unknown  and  horrible 
fate.  She  looked  at  her  mud-splashed  white  slip 
pers  that  were  not  yet  paid  for,  and  then  back  at  the 
bright  window  behind  which  the  party  was  waiting. 
In  a  sudden  anguish  of  disappointment  she  flung 
herself  face  downward  on  the  long  seat  and  sobbed 
with  a  passion  that  was  entirely  too  great  for  her 
small  body. 

Sitting  opposite,  his  stiff,  stubby  hair  sticking  out 
beneath  his  pirate  hat,  Dan  Lewis,  forgetting  his 
own  misfortune,  watched  her  with  dumb  compas 
sion,  and  between  them,  on  the  floor,  lay  a  drunken 
hulk  of  a  man  with  blood  trickling  across  his  ugly, 
bloated  face,  his  muddy  feet  resting  on  all  that  re 
mained  of  a  gorgeous,  tinsel  crown. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  the  Christmas  spirit 
fled  in  despair  from  Calvary  Alley  and  took  refuge 
in  the  big  cathedral  where,  behind  the  magnificent 
new  window,  a  procession  of  white-robed  choir 
boys,  led  by  Mac  Clarke,  were  joyously  proclaiming: 

"  Hark !  the  herald  angels  sing 
Glory  to  the  new-born  King;  " 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE   STATE   TAKES   A    HAND 

THE  two  reformatories  to  which  the  children, 
after  various  examinations,  were  consigned, 
represented  the  worst  and  the  best  types  of  such  in 
stitutions. 

Dan  Lewis  was  put  behind  barred  windows  with 
eight  hundred  other  young  "  foes  of  society."  He 
was  treated  as  a  criminal,  and  when  he  resented  it, 
he  was  put  under  a  cold  shower  and  beaten  with  a 
rattan  until  he  fainted.  Outraged,  humiliated,  bit 
terly  resentful,  his  one  idea  was  to  escape.  At  the 
end  of  a  month  of  cruelty  and  injustice  he  was  de 
veloping  a  hatred  against  authority  that  would  ulti 
mately  have  landed  him  in  the  State  prison  had  not 
a  miraculous  interference  from  without  set  him  free 
and  returned  him  to  his  work  in  Clarke's  Bottle 
Factory. 

It  all  came  about  through  a  letter  received  by 
Mrs.  Purdy,  who  was  wintering  in  Florida  —  a  tear- 
stained,  blotted,  misspelled  letter  that  had  been 
achieved  with  great  difficulty.  It  ran : 

Dear  Mis  Purdy,  me  and  Dan  Lewis  is  pinched  again. 
But  I  aint  a  Dellinkent.  The  jedge  says  theres  a  dif- 

129 


130  CALVARY  ALLEY 

frunce.  He  says  he  was  not  puting  me  in  becose  I  was 
bad  but  becose  I  was  not  brot  upright.  He  says  for  me 
to  be  good  and  stay  here  and  git  a  education.  He  says 
its  my  chanct.  I  was  mad  at  first,  but  now  I  aint.  What 
Im  writing  you  fer  is  to  git  Dan  Lewis  out.  He  never 
done  nothink  what  was  wrong  and  he  got  sent  to  the 
House  of  Refuse.  Please  Mis  Purdy  you  git  him  off. 
He  aint  bad.  You  know  he  aint.  You  ast  everbody  at 
home,  and  then  go  tell  the  Jedge  and  git  him  off.  I  can't 
Stan  fer  him  to  be  in  that  ole  hole  becose  it  aint  fair. 
Please  don't  stop  at  nothink  til  you  git  him  out.  So 
good-by,  loveingly 

NANCE. 

This  had  been  written  a  little  at  a  time  during 
Nance's  first  week  at  Forest  Home.  She  had  ar 
rived  in  such  a  burning  state  of  indignation  that  it 
required  the  combined  efforts  of  the  superintendent 
and  the  matron  to  calm  her.  In  fact  her  spirit  did 
not  break  until  she  was  subjected  to  a  thorough 
scrubbing  from  head  to  foot,  and  put  to  bed  on  a 
long  porch  between  cold,  clean  sheets.  She  was 
used  to  sleeping  in  her  underclothes  in  the  hot  close 
air  of  Snawdor's  flat,  with  Fidy  and  Lobelia  snug 
gled  up  on  each  side.  This  icy  isolation  was  intol 
erable!  Her  hair,  still  damp,  felt  strange  and  un 
comfortable;  her  eyes  smarted  from  the  recent 
application  of  soap.  She  lay  with  her  knees  drawn 
up  to  her  chin  and  shivered  and  cried  to  go  home. 

Hideous  thoughts  tormented  her.  Who  'd  git  up 
the  coal,  an'  do  the  washin'?  Would  Mr.  Snawdor 


THE  STATE  TAKES  A  HAND       131 


fergit  an'  take  off  Rosy's  aesophedity  bag,  so 
git  the  measles  an'  die  like  the  baby?  What  did 
Mr.  Lavinski  think  of  her  fer  not  comin'  to  work 
out  the  slipper  money?  Would  Dan  ever  git  his 
place  back  at  the  factory  after  he  'd  been  in  the 
House  of  Refuse?  Was  Mr.  Smelts'  leg  broke 
plum  off,  so  's  he  'd  have  to  hobble  on  a  peg-stick  ? 

She  cowered  under  the  covers.  "  God  aint  no 
friend  of  mine,"  she  sobbed  miserably. 

When  she  awoke  the  next  morning,  she  sat  up 
and  looked  about  her.  The  porch  in  which  she  lay 
was  enclosed  from  floor  to  ceiling  in  glass,  and  there 
were  rows  of  small  white  beds  like  her  own,  stretch 
ing  away  on  each  side  of  her.  The  tip  of  her  nose 
was  very  cold,  but  the  rest  of  her  was  surprisingly 
warm,  and  the  fresh  air  tasted  good  in  her  mouth. 
It  was  appallingly  still  and  strange,  and  she  lay  down 
and  listened  for  the  sounds  that  did  not  come.  « 

There  were  no  factory  whistles,  no  clanging  of 
car  bells,  no  lumbering  of  heavy  wagons.  Instead 
of  the  blank  wall  of  a  warehouse  upon  which  she 
was  used  to  opening  her  eyes,  there  were  miles  and 
miles  of  dim  white  fields.  Presently  a  wonderful 
thing  happened.  Something  was  on  fire  out  there 
at  the  edge  of  the  world  —  something  big  and  round 
and  red.  Nance  held  her  breath  and  for  the  first 
time  in  her  eleven  years  saw  the  sun  rise. 

When  getting-up  time  came,  she  went  with  eight 
een  other  girls  into  a  big,  warm  dressing-room, 


132  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  This  is  your  locker,"  said  the  girl  in  charge. 

"  My  whut?  "  asked  Nance. 

"  Your  locker,  where  you  put  your  clothes." 

Nance  had  no  clothes  except  the  ones  she  was 
about  to  put  on,  but  the  prospect  of  being  the  sole 
possessor  of  one  of  those  little  closets  brought  her 
the  first  gleam  of  consolation. 

The  next  followed  swiftly.  The  owner  of  the 
adjoining  locker  proved  to  be  no  other  than  Birdie 
Smelts.  Whatever  fear  Nance  had  of  Birdie's  re 
senting  the  part  she  had  played  in  landing  Mr. 
Smelts  in  the  city  hospital  was  promptly  banished. 

"  You  can't  tell  me  nothing  about  paw,"  Birdie 
said  at  the  end  of  Nance's  recital.  "  I  only  wish 
it  was  his  neck  instead  of  his  leg  that  was  broke." 

"  But  we  never  aimed  to  hurt  him,"  explained 
Nance,  to  whom  the  accident  still  loomed  as  a  fright 
ful  nightmare.  "  They  did  n't  have  no  right  to  send 
me  out  here." 

"  It  ain't  so  worse,"  said  Birdie  indifferently. 
"  You  get  enough  to  eat  and  you  keep  warm  and  get 
away  from  rough-housin' ;  that's  something." 

"  But  I  don't  belong  here !  "  protested  Nance, 
hotly. 

"  Aw,  forget  it,"  advised  Birdie,  with  a  philosoph 
ical  shrug  of  her  shapely  shoulders.  Birdie  was  not 
yet  fifteen,  but  she  had  already  learned  to  take  the 
course  of  least  resistance.  She  was  a  pretty,  weak- 
faced  girl,  with  a  full,  graceful  figure  and  full  red 


THE  STATE  TAKES  A  HAND       133 

lips  and  heavy-lidded  eyes  that  always  looked  sleepy. 

"  I  would  n't  keer  so  much  if  it  was  n't  fer  Dan 
Lewis,"  Nance  said  miserably.  "  He  was  inside 
Mr.  Demry's  room,  an'  never  knowed  a  thing  about 
it  'til  I  hollered." 

"  Say,  I  believe  you  are  gone  on  Dan ! "  said 
Birdie,  lifting  a  teasing  finger. 

"  I  ain't  either !  "  said  Nance  indignantly,  "  but 
I  ain't  goin'  to  quit  tryin'  'til  I  git  him  out !  " 

In  the  bright,  airy  dining-room  where  they  went 
for  breakfast,  Nance  sat  at  a  small  table  with  five 
other  girls  and  scornfully  refused  the  glass  of  milk 
they  offered  her  as  a  substitute  for  the  strong  coffee 
to  which  she  was  accustomed.  She  had  about  de 
cided  to  starve  herself  to  death,  but  changed  her 
mind  when  the  griddle-cakes  and  syrup  appeared. 

In  fact,  she  changed  her  mind  about  many  things 
during  those  first  days.  After  a  few  acute  attacks 
of  homesickness,  she  began  despite  herself  to  take  a 
pioneer's  delight  in  blazing  a  new  trail.  It  was  the 
first  time  she  had  ever  come  into  contact  for  more 
than  a  passing  moment,  with  decent  surroundings 
and  orderly  living,  and  her  surprises  were  endless. 

"  Say,  do  these  guys  make  you  put  on  airs  like 
this  all  the  time?"  she  asked  incredulously  of  her 
table-companion. 

"Like  what?" 

"  Like  eatin'  with  a  fork,  an'  washin'  every  day, 
an'  doin'  yer  hair  over  whether  it  needs  it  or  not?  " 


i34  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  If  I  had  hair  as  grand  as  yours,  they  would  n't 
have  to  make  me  fix  it,"  said  the  close-cropped  little 
girl  enviously. 

Nance  looked  at  her  suspiciously.  Once  before 
she  had  been  lured  by  that  bait,  and  she  was  wary. 
But  the  envy  in  the  eyes  of  the  short-haired  girl  was 
genuine. 

Nance  took  the  first  opportunity  that  presented 
itself  to  look  in  a  mirror.  To  her  amazement,  her 
tight,  drab-colored  braids  had  become  gleaming 
bands  of  gold,  and  there  were  fluffy  little  tendrils 
across  her  forehead  and  at  the  back  of  her  neck.  It 
was  unbelievable,  too,  how  much  more  becoming 
one  nose  was  to  the  human  countenance  than  two. 

A  few  days  later  when  one  of  the  older  girls  said 
teasingly,  "Nance  Molloy  is  stuck  on  her  hair!" 
Nance  answered  proudly,  "  Well,  ain't  I  got  a  right 
to  be?" 

At  the  end  of  the  first  month  word  came  from 
Mrs.  Purdy  that  she  had  succeeded  in  obtaining 
Dan's  release,  and  that  he  was  back  at  work  at 
Clarke's,  and  on  probation  again.  This  news,  in 
stead  of  making  Nance  restless  for  her  own  free 
dom,  had  quite  the  opposite  effect.  Now  that  her 
worry  over  Dan  was  at  an  end,  she  resigned  her 
self  cheerfully  to  the  business  of  being  reformed. 

The  presiding  genius  of  Forest  Home  was  Miss 
Stanley,  the  superintendent.  She  did  not  believe  in 
high  fences  or  uniforms  or  bodily  punishment.  She 


THE  STATE  TAKES  A  HAND       135 

was  tall,  handsome,  and  serene,  and  she  treated  the 
girls  with  the  same  grave  courtesy  with  which  she 
treated  the  directors. 

Nance  regarded  her  with  something  of  the  wor 
shipful  awe  she  had  once  felt  before  an  image  of 
the  Virgin  Mary. 

"  She  don't  make  you  'fraid  exactly,"  she  con 
fided  to  Birdie.  "  She  makes  you  'shamed." 

"  You  can  tell  she  's  a  real  lady  the  way  she  shines 
her  finger-nails,"  said  Birdie,  to  whom  affairs  of  the 
toilet  were  of  great  importance. 

"  Another  way  you  can  tell,"  Nance  added,  try 
ing  to  think  the  thing  out  for  herself,  "  is  the  way 
she  takes  slams.  You  an'  me  sass  back,  but  a  real 
lady  knows  how  to  hold  her  jaw  an'  make  you  eat 
dirt  just  the  same." 

They  were  standing  side  by  side  at  a  long  table 
in  a  big,  clean  kitchen,  cutting  out  biscuit  for  sup 
per.  Other  white-capped,  white-aproned  girls,  all 
intent  upon  their  own  tasks,  were  flitting  about,  and 
a  teacher  sat  at  a  desk  beside  the  window,  directing 
the  work.  The  two  girls  had  fallen  into  the  habit 
of  doing  their  chores  together  and  telling  each  other 
secrets.  Birdie's  had  mostly  to  do  with  boys,  and 
it  was  not  long  before  Nance  felt  called  upon  to 
make  a  few  tentative  observations  on  the  same  en 
grossing  subject. 

'  The  prettiest  boy  I  ever  seen  — "  she  said,  "  I 
mean  I  have  ever  saw  " —  then  she  laughed  help- 


136  CALVARY  ALLEY 

lessly.  "  Well,  anyhow,  he  was  that  Clarke  feller. 
You  know,  the  one  that  got  pinched  fer  smashin' 
the  window  the  first  time  we1  was  had  up  ?  " 

"Mac  Clarke?  Sure,  I  know  him.  He's  fresh 
all  right." 

Birdie  did  not  go  into  particulars,  but  she  looked 
important. 

"  Say,  Birdie,"  Nance  asked  admiringly,  "  when 
you  git  out  of  here,  what  you  goin'  to  do?  " 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  ain't  going  to  do,"  said 
Birdie,  impressively,  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  ain't  going 
to  stand  in  a  store,  and  I  ain't  going  out  to  work, 
and  I  ain't  going  to  work  at  Clarke's !  " 

"  But  what  else  is  left  to  do?  " 

"  Swear  you  won't  tell  ?  " 

Nance  crossed  her  heart  with  a  floury  finger. 

"  I  'm  going  to  be  a  actress,"  said  Birdie. 

It  was  fortunate  for  Nance  that  Birdie's  term  at 
the  home  soon  ended.  She  was  at  that  impression 
able  age  which  reflects  the  nearest  object  of  interest, 
and  shortly  after  Birdie's  departure  she  abandoned 
the  idea  of  joining  her  on  the  professional  boards, 
and  decided  instead  to  become  a  veterinary  surgeon. 

This  decision  was  reached  through  a  growing  in 
timacy  with  the  lame  old  soldier  who  presided  over 
the  Forest  Home  stables.  "  Doc  "  was  a  familiar 
character  in  the  county,  and  his  advice  about  horses 
was  sought  far  and  near.  Next  to  horses  he  liked 
children,  and  after  them  dogs.  Adults  came  rather 


THE  STATE  TAKES  A  HAND   137 

far  down  the  line,  excepting  always  Miss  Stanley, 
whom  he  regarded  as  infallible. 

On  the  red-letter  Sunday  when  Uncle  Jed  had 
tramped  the  ten  miles  out  from  town  to  assure  him 
self  of  Nance's  well-being,  he  discovered  in  Doc  an 
old  comrade  of  the  Civil  War.  They  had  been  in 
the  same  company,  Uncle  Jed  as  a  drummer  boy, 
and  Doc  in  charge  of  the  cavalry  horses. 

"  Why,  I  expect  you  recollict  this  child's  grand- 
paw,"  Uncle  Jed  said,  with  his  hand  on  Nance's 
head,  "  Molloy,  '  Fightin'  Phil,'  they  called  him. 
Went  down  with  the  colors  at  Chickasaw  Bluffs." 

Doc  did  remember.  Fighting  Phil  had  been  one 
of  the  idols  of  his  boyhood. 

Miss  Stanley  found  in  this  friendship  a  solution 
of  Nance's  chief  difficulty.  When  a  person  of 
eleven  has  been  doing  practical  housekeeping  for  a 
family  of  eight,  she  naturally  resents  the  suggestion 
that  there  is  anything  in  domestic  science  for  her  to 
learn.  Moreover,  when  said  person  is  anemic  and 
nervous  from  overwork,  and  has  a  tongue  that  has 
never  known  control,  it  is  perilously  easy  to  get  into 
trouble,  despite  heroic  efforts  to  be  good. 

The  wise  superintendent  saw  in  the  girl  all  sorts 
of  possibilities  for  both  good  and  evil.  For  un 
selfish  service  and  passionate  sacrifice,  as  well  as 
obstinate  rebellion  and  hot-headed  folly. 

At  those  unhappy  times  when  Nance  threatened 
to  break  over  the  bounds,  she  was  sent  out  to  the 


138  CALVARY  ALLEY 

stables  to  spend  an  afternoon  with  Doc.  No  matter 
how  sore  her  grievance,  it  vanished  in  the  presence 
of  the  genial  old  veterinarian.  She  never  tired  of 
hearing  him  tell  of  her  fighting  Irish  grandfather 
and  the  pranks  he  played  on  his  messmates,  of  Uncle 
Jed  and  the  time  he  lost  his  drumsticks  and  marched 
barefoot  in  the  snow,  beating  his  drum  with  the  heels 
of  his  shoes. 

Most  of  all  she  liked  the  horses.  She  learned 
how  to  put  on  bandages  and  poultices  and  to  make  a 
bran  mash.  Doc  taught  her  how  to  give  a  sick  horse 
a  drink  out  of  a  bottle  without  choking  him,  how  to 
hold  his  tongue  with  one  hand  and  put  a  pill  far 
down  his  throat  with  the  other.  The  nursing  of  sick 
animals  seemed  to  come  to  her  naturally,  and  she 
found  it  much  more  interesting  than  school  work 
and  domestic  science. 

"  She  's  got  a  way  with  critters,"  Doc  confided 
proudly  to  Miss  Stanley.  "  I  've  seen  a  horse  eat 
out  of  her  hand  when  it  would  n't  touch  food  in  the 
manger." 

As  the  months  slipped  into  years,  the  memory  of 
Calvary  Alley  grew  dim,  and  Nance  began  to  look 
upon  herself  as  an  integral  part  of  this  orderly  life 
which  stretched  away  in  a  pleasant  perspective  of 
work  and  play.  It  was  the  first  time  that  she  had 
ever  been  tempted  to  be  good,  and  she  fell.  It  was 
not  Miss  Stanley's  way  to  say  "  don't."  Instead, 


THE  STATE  TAKES  A  HAND       139 

she  said,  "  do,"  and  the  "  do's  "  became  so  engross 
ing  that  the  "  don'ts  "  were  crowded  out. 

At  regular  intervals  Mrs.  Snawdor  made  applica 
tion  for  her  dismissal,  and  just  as  regularly  a  proba 
tion  officer  visited  the  Snawdor  flat  and  pronounced 
it  unfit. 

"  I  suppose  if  I  had  a  phoneygraf  an'  lace  curtains 
you  'd  let  her  come  home,"  Mrs.  Snawdor  observed 
caustically  during  one  of  these  inspections.  "  You 
bet  I  '11  fix  things  up  next  time  if  I  know  you  are 
comin' ! " 

The  State  was  doing  its  clumsy  best  to  make  up  to 
Nance  for  what  she  had  missed.  It  was  giving  her 
free  board,  free  tuition,  and  protection  from  harm 
ful  influences.  But  that  did  not  begin  to  square  the 
State's  account,  nor  the  account  of  society.  They 
still  owed  her  something  for  that  early  environment 
of  dirt  and  disease.  The  landlord  in  whose  vile  ten 
ement  she  had  lived,  the  saloon-keeper  who  had  sold 
her  beer,  the  manufacturer  who  had  bought  the  gar 
ments  she  made  at  starvation  wages,  were  all  her 
debtors.  Society  exists  for  the  purpose  of  doing 
justice  to  its  members,  and  society  had  not  begun  to 
pay  its  debt  to  that  youthful  member  whose  lot  had 
been  cast  in  Calvary  Alley. 

One  Saturday  afternoon  in  the  early  spring  of 
Nance's  fourth  year  at  Forest  Home,  Miss  Stanley 
stood  in  the  school-house  door,  reading  a  letter.  It 


140  CALVARY  ALLEY 

was  the  kind  of  a  day  when  heaven  and  earth  can 
not  keep  away  from  each  other,  but  the  fleecy  clouds 
must  come  down  to  play  in  the  sparkling  pools,  and 
white  and  pink  blossoms  must  go  climbing  up  to  the 
sky  to  flaunt  their  sweetness  against  the  blue.  Yet 
Miss  Stanley,  reading  her  letter,  sighed. 

Coming  toward  her  down  the  hillside,  plunged  a 
noisy  group  of  children,  and  behind  them  in  hot  pur 
suit  came  Nance  Molloy,  angular,  long-legged,  lithe 
as  a  young  sapling  and  half  mad  with  the  spring. 

"  Such  a  child  still!  "  sighed  Miss  Stanley,  as  she 
lifted  a  beckoning  hand. 

The  children  crowded  about  her,  all  holding  out 
hot  fists  full  of  faded  wild  flowers. 

"  Look  !  "  cried  one  breathlessly.  "  We  found 
'em  in  the  hollow.  And  Nance  says  if  you  '11  let 
her,  she  '11  take  us  next  Saturday  to  the  old  mill 
where  some  yellow  vi'lets  grow !  " 

Miss  Stanley  looked  down  at  the  flushed,  happy 
faces;  then  she  put  her  arm  around  Nance's  shoul 
der. 

"  Nancy  will  not  be  with  us  next  Saturday,"  she 
said  regretfully.  "  She  's  going  home." 


CHAPTER  XII 
CLARKE'S 

NANCE  MOLLOY  came  out  of  Forest  Home, 
an  independent,  efficient  girl,  with  clear  skin, 
luminous  blue  eyes,  and  shining  braids  of  fair  hair. 
She  came  full  of  ideals  and  new  standards  and  all 
the  terrible  wisdom  of  sixteen,  and  she  dumped 
them  in  a  mass  on  the  family  in  Calvary  Alley  and 
boldly  announced  that  "  what  she  was  going  to  do 
was  a-plenty !  " 

But  like  most  reformers,  she  reckoned  too  confi 
dently  on  cooperation.  The  rest  of  the  Snawdor 
family  had  not  been  to  reform  school,  and  it  had 
strong  objections  to  Nance's  drastic  measures.  Her 
innovations  met  with  bitter  opposition  from  William 
J.,  who  indignantly  declined  to  have  the  hitherto 
respected  privacy  of  his  ears  and  nose  invaded,  to 
Mrs.  Snawdor,  who  refused  absolutely  to  sleep  with 
the  windows  open. 

"  What 's  the  sense  in  working  your  fingers  off  to 
buy  coal  to  heat  the  house  if  you  go  an'  let  out  all  the 
hot  air  over  night?"  she  demanded.  "They've 
filled  up  yer  head  with  fool  notions,  but  I  tell  you 
right  now,  you  ain't  goin'  to  work  'em  off  on  us. 
You  kin  just  tell  that  old  maid  Stanley  that  when 

141 


142  CALVARY  ALLEY 

she  's  had  three  husbands  and  five  children  an'  a 
step,  an'  managed  to  live  on  less  'n  ten  dollars  a 
week,  it  '11  be  time  enough  fer  her  to  be  learnin'  me 
tricks!" 

"  But  don't  all  this  mess  ever  get  on  your  nerves  ? 
Don't  you  ever  want  to  clear  out  and  go  to  the 
country?  "  asked  Nance. 

"  Not  me ! "  said  Mrs.  Snawdor.  "  I  been 
fightin'  the  country  all  my  life.  It 's  bad  enough 
bein'  dirt  pore,  without  goin'  an'  settin'  down  among 
the  stumps  where  there  ain't  nothin'  to  take  yer  mind 
off  it." 

So  whatever  reforms  Nance  contemplated  had  to 
be  carried  out  slowly  and  with  great  tact.  Mrs. 
Snawdor,  having  put  forth  one  supreme  effort  to 
make  the  flat  sufficiently  decent  to  warrant  Nance's 
return,  proposed  for  the  remainder  of  her  life  to 
rest  on  her  laurels.  As  for  the  children,  they  had 
grown  old  enough  to  have  decided  opinions  of  their 
own,  and  when  Nance  threw  the  weight  of  her  influ 
ence  on  the  side  of  order  and  cleanliness,  she  was  re 
garded  as  a  traitor  in  the  camp.  It  was  only  Mr. 
Snawdor  who  sought  to  uphold  her,  and  Mr.  Snaw 
dor  was  but  a  broken  reed. 

Meanwhile  the  all-important  question  of  getting 
work  was  under  discussion.  Miss  Stanley  had  made 
several  tentative  suggestions,  but  none  of  them  met 
with  Mrs.  Snawdor's  approval. 

"  No,  I  ain't  goin'  to  let  you  work  out  in  private 


CLARKE'S  143 

families !  "  she  declared  indignantly.  "  She  's  got 
her  cheek  to  ast  it !  Did  you  tell  her  yer  pa  was  a 
Molloy?  An'  Mr.  Burks  says  yer  maw  was  even 
better  born  than  what  Bud  was.  I  'm  goin'  to  git 
you  a  job  myself.  I  'm  goin'  to  take  you  up  to 
Clarke's  this  very  evenin'." 

"  I  don't  want  to  work  in  a  factory !  "  Nance  said 
discontentedly,  looking  out  of  the  window  into  the 
dirty  court  below. 

"  I  suppose  you  want  to  run  a  beauty  parlor,"  said 
Mrs.  Snawdor,  with  scornful  reference  to  Nance's 
improved  appearance.  "  You  might  just  as  well 
come  off  them  high  stilts  an'  stop  puttin'  on  airs. 
Dan  Lewis  has  been  up  to  Clarke's  goin'  on  four 
years  now.  I  hear  they  're  pushin'  him  right 
along." 

Nance  stopped  drumming  on  the  window-pane 
and  became  suddenly  interested.  The  one  thing 
that  had  reconciled  her  to  leaving  Miss  Stanley  and 
the  girls  at  the  home  was  the  possibility  of  seeing 
Dan  again.  She  wondered  what  he  looked  like 
after  these  four  years,  whether  he  would  recognize 
her,  whether  he  had  a  sweetheart?  She  had  been 
home  three  days  now  and  had  caught  no  glimpse  of 
him. 

"  We  never  see  nothin'  of  him,"  her  stepmother 
told  her.  "  He  's  took  up  with  the  Methodists,  an' 
runs  around  to  meetin's  an'  things  with  that  there 
Mis'  Purdy." 


144  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  Don't  he  live  over  Slap  Jack's?  "  asked  Nance. 

"  Yes ;  he  's  got  his  room  there  still.  I  hear  his 
ma  died  las'  spring.  Flirtin'  with  the  angels  by  now, 
I  reckon." 

The  prospect  of  seeing  Dan  cheered  Nance  amaz 
ingly.  She  spent  the  morning  washing  and  ironing 
her  best  shirt-waist  and  turning  the  ribbon  on  her 
tam-o'-shanter.  Every  detail  of  her  toilet  received 
scrupulous  attention. 

It  was  raining  dismally  when  she  and  Mrs.  Snaw- 
dor  picked  their  way  across  the  factory  yard  that 
afternoon.  The  conglomerate  mass  of  buildings 
known  as  "  Clarke's  "  loomed  somberly  against  the 
dull  sky.  Beside  the  low  central  building  a  huge 
gas-pipe  towered,  and  the  water,  trickling  down  it, 
made  a  puddle  through  which  they  had  to  wade  to 
reach  the  door  of  the  furnace  room. 

Within  they  could  see  the  huge,  round  furnace 
with  its  belt  of  small  fiery  doors,  from  which  glass- 
blowers,  with  long  blow-pipes  were  deftly  taking 
small  lumps  of  moulten  glass  and  blowing  them  into 
balls. 

"  There 's  Dan!  "  cried  Mrs.  Snawdor,  and  Nance 
looked  eagerly  in  the  direction  indicated. 

In  the  red  glare  of  the  furnace,  a  big,  awkward, 
bare-armed  young  fellow  was  just  turning  to  roll 
his  red-hot  ball  on  a  board.  There  was  a  steady 
look  in  the  gray  eyes  that  scowled  slightly  under  the 
intense  glare,  a  sure  movement  of  the  hands  that 


CLARKE'S  145 

dropped  the  elongated  roll  into  the  mold.  When  he 
saw  Mrs.  Snawdor's  beckoning  finger,  he  came  to 
the  door. 

"  This  here  is  Nance  Molloy,"  said  Mrs.  Snawdor 
by  way  of  introduction.  "  She  's  about  growed  up 
sence  you  seen  her.  We  come  to  see  about  gittin' 
her  a  job." 

Nance,  looking  at  the  strange,  stern  face  above 
her,  withdrew  the  hand  she  had  held  out.  Dan  did 
not  seem  'to  see  her  hand  any  more  than  he  saw  her 
fresh  shirt-waist  and  the  hat  she  had  taken  so  much 
pains  to  retrim.  After  a  casual  nod  he  stood  look 
ing  at  the  floor  and  rubbing  the  toe  of  his  heavy  boot 
against  his  blow-pipe. 

"  Sure,"  he  said  slowly,  "  but  this  is  no  fit  place 
for  a  girl,  Mrs.  Snawdor." 

Mrs.  Snawdor  bristled  immediately. 

"  I  ain't  astin'  yer  advice,  Dan  Lewis.  I  'm  astin' 
yer  help." 

Dan  looked  Nance  over  in  troubled  silence. 

"Is  she  sixteen  yet?"  he  asked  as  impersonally 
as  if  she  had  not  been  present. 

"  Yes,  an'  past.  I  knowed  they  'd  be  scarin'  up 
that  dangerous  trade  business  on  me  next.  How 
long  before  the  foreman  '11  be  here?  " 

"  Any  time  now,"  said  Dan.  "  I  '11  take  you  into 
his  office." 

With  a  sinking  heart,  Nance  followed  them  into 
the  crowded  room.  The  heat  was  stifling,  and  the 


146  CALVARY  ALLEY 

air  was  full  of  stinging  glass  dust.  All  about  them 
boys  were  running  with  red  hot  bottles  on  big 
asbestos  shovels.  She  hated  the  place,  and  she 
hated  Dan  for  not  being  glad  to  see  her. 

"  They  are  the  carrying-in  boys,"  Dan  explained, 
continuing  to  address  all  of  his  remarks  to  Mrs. 
Snawdor.  "  That 's  where  I  began.  You  would  n't 
believe  that  those  kids  often  run  as  much  as  twenty- 
two  miles  a  day.  Watch  out  there,  boy !  Be  care 
ful!" 

But  his  warning  came  too  late.  One  of  the 
smaller  youngsters  had  stumbled  and  dropped  his 
shovel,  and  a  hot  bottle  had  grazed  his  leg,  burning 
away  a  bit  of  the  stocking. 

"  It 's  all  right,  Partner,"  cried  Dan,  springing 
forward.  "  You  're  not  much  hurt.  I  '11  fix  you 
up." 

But  the  boy  was  frightened  and  refused  to  let 
him  remove  the  stocking. 

"  Let  me  do  it,"  begged  Nance.  "  I  can  get  it  off 
without  hurting  him." 

And  while  Dan  held  the  child's  leg  steady,  she 
bathed  and  bound  it  in  a  way  that  did  credit  to 
Doc's  training.  Only  once  during  the  process  did 
she  look  up,  and  then  she  was  relieved  to  see  in 
stead  of  the  stern  face  of  a  strange  young  man,  the 
compassionate,  familiar  face  of  the  old  Dan  she 
used  to  know. 


CLARKE'S  147 

The  interview  with  the  foreman  was  of  brief 
duration.  He  was  a  thick-set,  pimply-faced  person 
whom  Dan  called  Mr.  Bean.  He  swept  an  apprais 
ing  eye  over  the  applicant,  submitted  a  few  blunt 
questions  to  Dan  in  an  undertone,  ignored  Mrs. 
Snawdor's  voluble  comments,  and  ended  by  telling 
Nance  to  report  for  work  the  following  week. 

As  Mrs.  Snawdor  and  Nance  took  their  depart 
ure,  the  former,  whose  thoughts  seldom  traveled  on 
a  single  track,  said  tentatively : 

"  Dan  Lewis  has  got  to  be  real  nice  lookin'  sence 
you  seen  him,  ain't  he  ?  " 

"  Nothin'  to  brag  on,"  said  Nance,  still  smarting 
at  his  indifference.  But  as  she  turned  the  corner  of 
the  building,  she  stole  a  last  look  through  the  win 
dow  to  where  Dan  was  standing  at  his  fiery  post, 
his  strong,  serious  face  and  broad,  bare  chest  lighted 
up  by  the  radiance  from  the  glory-hole. 

It  was  with  little  enthusiasm  that  Nance  presented 
herself  at  the  factory  on  Monday  morning,  ready  to 
enlist  in  what  Bishop  Bland  called  "  the  noble  serv 
ice  of  industry."  Her  work  was  in  the  finishing 
room  where  a  number  of  girls  were  crowded  at 
machines  and  tables,  filing,  clipping,  and  packing 
bottles.  Her  task  was  to  take  the  screw-neck  bot 
tles  that  came  from  the  leer,  and  chip  and  file  their 
jagged  necks  and  shoulders  until  all  the  roughness 
was  removed.  It  was  dirty  work,  and  dangerous 


148  CALVARY  ALLEY 

for  unskilled  hands,  and  she  found  it  difficult  to 
learn. 

"  Say,  kid,"  said  the  ugly,  hollow-chested  girl  be 
side  her,  "if  I  'm  goin'  to  be  your  learner,  I  want 
you  to  be  more  particular.  Between  you  an'  this 
here  other  girl,  you  're  fixin'  to  put  my  good  eye 
out." 

Nance  glanced  up  at  the  gaunt  face  with  its  empty 
eye  socket  and  then  looked  quickly  away. 

"  Say,"  said  the  other  new  girl,  complainingly, 
"  is  it  always  hot  like  this  in  here  ?  I  'm  most  chok 
ing." 

"  We  '11  git  the  boss  to  put  in  a  'lectric  fan  fer 
you,"  suggested  the  hollow-chested  one,  whose  name 
was  Mag  Gist. 

Notwithstanding  her  distaste  for  the  work,  Nance 
threw  herself  into  it  with  characteristic  vehemence. 
Speed  seemed  to  be  the  quality  above  all  others  that 
one  must  strive  for,  and  speed  she  was  determined 
to  have,  regardless  of  consequences. 

"  When  you  learn  how  to  do  this,  what  do  you 
learn  next?  "  she  asked  presently. 

Mag  laughed  gruffly. 

"  There  ain't  no  next.  If  you  'd  started  as  a 
wrapper,  you  might  'a'  worked  up  a  bit,  but  you 
never  would  'a'  got  to  be  a  chuck-grinder.  I  been 
at  this  bench  four  years  an'  if  I  don't  lose  my  job, 
I  '11  be  here  four  more." 


CLARKE'S  149 

"  But  if  you  get  to  be  awful  quick,  you  can  make 
money,  can't  you  ?  " 

"  You  kin  make  enough  to  pay  fer  two  meals  a 
day  if  yer  appetite  ain't  too  good." 

Nance's  heart  sank.  It  was  a  blow  to  find  that 
Mag,  who  was  the  cleverest  girl  in  the  finishing 
room,  had  been  filing  bottle  necks  for  four  years. 
She  stole  a  glance  at  her  stooped  shoulders  and  sal 
low  skin  and  the  hideous,  empty  socket  of  her  left 
eye.  What  was  the  good  of  becoming  expert  if  it 
only  put  one  where  Mag  was? 

By  eleven  o'clock  there  was  a  sharp  pain  between 
her  shoulder-blades,  and  her  feet  ached  so  that  she 
angrily  kicked  off  first  one  shoe,  then  the  other. 
This  was  the  signal  for  a  general  laugh. 

"  They  're  kiddin'  you  fer  sheddin'  yer  shoes," 
explained  Mag,  who  had  laughed  louder  than  any 
body.  "  Greenhorns  always  do  it  first  thing.  By 
the  time  you  've  stepped  on  a  piece  of  glass  onct  or 
twict,  you  '11  be  glad  enough  to  climb  back  into  'em." 

After  a  while  one  of  the  girls  started  a  song,  and 
one  by  one  the  others  joined  in.  There  were  nu 
merous  verses,  and  a  plaintive  refrain  that  referred 
to  "  the  joy  that  ne'er  would  come  again  to  you 
and  I." 

When  no  more  verses  could  be  thought  of,  there 
were  stories  and  doubtful  jokes  which  sent  the  girls 
into  fits  of  wild  laughter. 


ISO  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  Oh,  cheese  it,"  said  Mag  after  one  of  these  sal 
lies.  '  You  all  orter  to  behave  more  before  these 
kids." 

'  They  don't  know  what  we  are  talkin'  about," 
said  a  red-haired  girl. 

"  You  bet  I  do,"  said  Nance,  with  disgust,  "  but 
you  all  give  me  a  sick  headache." 

When  the  foreman  made  his  rounds,  figures  that 
had  begun  to  droop  were  galvanized  into  fresh 
effort.  At  Mag's  bench  he  paused. 

"  How  are  the  fillies  making  it?  "  he  asked,  with 
a  familiar  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  each  new  girl. 
Nance's  companion  dropped  her  eyes  with  a  simper 
ing  smile,  but  Nance  jerked  away  indignantly. 

The  foreman  looked  at  the  back  of  the  shining 
head  and  frowned. 

"  You  '11  have  to  push  up  the  stroke,"  he  said. 
"  Can't  you  see  you  lose  time  by  changing  your  po 
sition  so  often?  What  makes  you  fidget  so?  " 

Nance  set  her  teeth  resolutely  and  held  her 
tongue.  But  her  Irish  instinct  always  suffered  from 
restraint  and  by  the  time  the  noon  whistle  blew,  she 
was  in  a  state  of  sullen  resentment.  The  thought 
of  her  beloved  Miss  Stanley  and  what  she  would 
think  of  these  surroundings  brought  a  lump  into  her 
throat. 

"  Come  on  over  here,"  called  Mag  from  a  group 
of  girls  at  the  open  window.  "  Don't  you  mind 
what  Bean  says.  He  's  sore  on  any  girl  that  won't 


CLARKE'S  151 

eat  outen  his  dirty  hand.  You  're  as  smart  again  as 
that  other  kid.  I  can  tell  right  off  if  a  girl 's  got 
gumption,  an'  if  she  's  on  the  straight. 

"  Chuck  that  Sunday-school  dope,"  laughed  a 
pretty,  red-haired  girl  named  Gert.  "  You  git  her 
in  wrong  with  Bean,  an'  I  would  n't  give  a  nickel  fer 
her  chance." 

"  You  ought  to  know,"  said  Mag,  drily. 

The  talk  ran  largely  to  food  and  clothes,  and 
Nance  listened  with  growing  dismay.  It  seemed 
that  most  of  the  girls  lived  in  rooming  houses  and 
took  their  meals  out. 

"Wisht  I  had  a  Hamberger,"  said  Mag.  "I 
ain't  had  a  bite  of  meat  fer  a  month.  I  always  buy 
my  shoes  with  meat  money." 

"  I  git  my  hats  with  breakfasts,"  said  another  girl. 
"  Fourteen  breakfasts  makes  a  dollar-forty.  I  kin 
buy  a  hat  fer  a  dollar-forty-nine  that 's  swell  enough 
fer  anybody." 

"  I  gotta  have  my  breakfast,"  said  Mag.  "  Four 
cups  of  coffee  ain't  nothin'  to  me." 

Gert  got  up  and  stretched  herself  impatiently. 

"  I  'm  sick  an'  tired  of  hearin'  you  all  talk  about 
eatin'.  Mag's  idea  of  Heaven  is  a  place  where  you 
spend  ten  hours  makin'  money  an'  two  eatin'  it  up. 
Some  of  us  ain't  built  like  that.  We  got  to  have 
some  fun  as  we  go  along,  an'  we  're  goin'  to  git  it, 
you  bet  your  sweet  life,  one  way  or  the  other." 

Soon  after  work  was  resumed,  word  was  passed 


152  CALVARY  ALLEY 

around  that  a  big  order  had  come  in,  and  nobody  was 
to  quit  work  until  it  was  made  up.  A  ripple  of  sul 
len  comment  followed  this  announcement,  but  the 
girls  bent  to  their  tasks  with  feverish  energy. 

At  two  o'clock  the  other  new  girl  standing  next  to 
Nance  grew  faint,  and  had  to  be  stretched  on  the 
floor  in  the  midst  of  the  broken  glass. 

"She's  a  softie!"  whispered  Mag  to  Nance. 
"  This  ain't  nothin'  to  what  it  is  in  hot  weather." 

The  pain  between  Nance's  shoulders  was  growing 
intolerable,  and  her  cut  fingers  and  aching  feet  made 
her  long  to  cast  herself  on  the  floor  beside  the  other 
girl  and  give  up  the  fight.  But  pride  held  her  to  her 
task.  After  what  seemed  to  her  an  eternity  she 
again  looked  at  the  big  clock  over  the  door.  It  was 
only  three.  How  was  she  ever  to  endure  three  more 
hours  when  every  minute  now  was  an  agony? 

Mag  heard  her  sigh  and  turned  her  head  long 
enough  to  say : 

"  Hang  yer  arms  down  a  spell ;  that  kind  of  rests 
'em.  You  ain't  goin'  to  flop,  too,  are  you  ?  " 

"  Not  if  I  can  hold  out." 

"  I  knowed  you  was  game  all  right,"  said  Mag, 
with  grim  approval. 

By  six  o'clock  the  last  bottle  was  packed,  and 
Nance  washed  the  blood  and  dirt  off  her  hands  and 
forced  her  swollen,  aching  feet  into  her  shoes.  She 
jerked  her  jacket  and  tam-o'-shanter  from  the  long 
row  of  hooks,  and  half  blind  with  weariness,  joined 


CLARKE'S  153 

the  throng  of  women  and  girls  that  jostled  one 
another  down  the  stairs.  Every  muscle  of  her  body 
ached,  and  her  whole  soul  was  hot  with  rebellion. 
She  told  herself  passionately  that  nothing  in  the 
world  could  induce  her  to  come  back;  she  was 
through  with  factory  work  forever. 

As  she  limped  out  into  the  yard,  a  totally  van 
quished  little  soldier  on  the  battle-field  of  industry, 
she  spied  Dan  Lewis  standing  beside  the  tall  gas- 
pipe,  evidently  waiting  for  somebody.  He  probably 
had  a  sweetheart  among  all  these  trooping  girls ;  per 
haps  it  was  the  pretty,  red-haired  one  named  Gert. 
The  thought,  dropping  suddenly  into  a  surcharged 
heart,  brimmed  it  over,  and  Nance  had  to  sweep  her 
fingers  across  her  eyes  to  brush  away  the  tears. 

And  then : 

"  I  thought  I  'd  missed  you,"  said  Dan,  quite  as 
a  matter  of  course,  as  he  caught  step  with  her  and 
raised  her  umbrella. 

Nance  could  have  flung  her  tired  arms  about  him 
and  wept  on  his  broad  shoulder  for  sheer  gratitude. 
To  be  singled  out,  like  that,  before  all  the  girls  on 
her  first  day,  to  have  a  beau,  a  big  beau,  pilot  her 
through  the  crowded  streets  and  into  Calvary  Alley 
where  all  might  see,  was  sufficient  to  change  the 
dullest  sky  to  rose  and  lighten  the  heart  of  the  most 
discouraged. 

On  the  way  home  they  found  little  to  say,  but 
Nance's  aching  feet  fairly  tripped  beside  those  of 


154  CALVARY  ALLEY 

her  tall  companion,  and  when  they  turned  Slap 
Jack's  corner  and  Dan  asked  in  his  slow,  deliberate 
way,  "  How  do  you  think  you  are  going  to  like  the 
factory?"  Nance  answered  enthusiastically,  "Oh, 
I  like  it  splendid!" 


t       CHAPTER  XIII 

EIGHT    TO    SIX 

THROUGH  that  long,  wet  spring  Nance  did 
her  ten  hours  a  day,  six  days  in  the  week  and 
on  the  seventh  washed  her  clothes  and  mended 
them.  Her  breaking  in  was  a  hard  one,  for  she  was 
as  quick  of  tongue  as  she  was  of  fingers,  and  her 
tirades  against  the  monotony,  the  high  speed,  and 
the  small  pay  were  frequent  and  vehement.  Every 
other  week  when  Dan  was  on  the  night  shift,  she 
made  up  her  mind  definitely  that  she  would  stand  it 
no  longer. 

But  on  the  alternate  weeks  when  she  never  failed 
to  find  him  waiting  at  the  gas-pipe  to  take  her  home, 
she  thought  better  of  it.  She  loved  to  slip  in  under 
his  big  cotton  umbrella,  when  the  nights  were  rainy, 
and  hold  to  his  elbow  as  he  shouldered  a  way  for  her 
through  the  crowd;  she  liked  to  be  a  part  of  that 
endless  procession  of  bobbing  umbrellas  that  flowed 
down  the  long,  wet,  glistening  street ;  best  of  all  she 
liked  the  distinction  of  having  a  "  steady  "  and  the 
envious  glances  it  brought  her  from  the  other  girls. 

Sometimes  when  they  paused  at  a  shop  window, 
she  caught  her  reflection  in  a  mirror,  and  smiled 


156  CALVARY  ALLEY 

approval  at  the  bright  face  under  the  red  tam.  She 
wondered  constantly  if  Dan  thought  she  was  pretty 
and  always  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  did  not. 

From  the  time  they  left  the  factory  until  they 
saw  the  towering  bulk  of  the  cathedral  against  the 
dusk,  Nance's  chatter  never  ceased.  She  drama 
tized  her  experiences  at  the  factory ;  she  gave  a  lively 
account  of  the  doings  of  the  Snawdor  family;  she 
wove  tales  of  mystery  around  old  Mr.  Demry.  She 
had  the  rare  gift  of  enhancing  every  passing  moment 
with  something  of  importance  and  interest. 

Dan  listened  with  the  flattering  homage  a  slow, 
taciturn  nature  often  pays  a  quick,  vivacious  one. 
It  was  only  when  problems  concerning  the  factory 
were  touched  upon  that  his  tongue  lost  its  stiffness. 
Under  an  unswerving  loyalty  to  his  employers  was 
growing  a  discontent  with  certain  existing  con 
ditions.  The  bad  lighting  system,  the  lack  of  ven 
tilation,  the  employment  of  children  under  age,  were 
subjects  that  rendered  him  eloquent.  That  cruel 
month  spent  in  the  reformatory  had  branded  him  so 
deeply  that  he  was  supersensitive  to  the  wrongs  of 
others,  and  spent  much  of  his  time  in  planning  ways 
and  means  to  better  conditions. 

"  Don't  you  ever  want  a  good  time,  Dan  ?  "  Nance 
asked.  "  Don't  you  ever  want  to  sort  of  let  go  and 
do  something  reckless?" 

"  No ;  but  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  do  want.  I  want 
a'  education.  I  've  a  good  mind  to  go  to  night 


EIGHT  TO  SIX  157 

school  and  try  to  pick  up  some  of  the  things  I  did  n?t 
get  a  chance  to  learn  when  I  was  a  kid." 

Nance  scoffed  the  idea;  school  was  almost  invis 
ible  to  her  from  the  giddy  height  of  sixteen. 
"  Let 's  go  on  a  bat,"  she  urged.  "  Let 's  go  out  and 
see  something*." 

So  on  the  four  following  Sundays  Dan  took  her  to 
see  the  library,  the  reservoir,  the  city  hall,  and  the 
jail.  His  ideas  of  recreation  had  not  been  culti 
vated. 

The  time  in  the  week  to  which  she  always  looked 
forward  was  Saturday  afternoon.  Then  they  got 
out  early,  and  if  the  weather  was  fine,  they  would 
stop  in  Post-Office  Square  and,  sitting  on  one  of 
the  iron  benches,  watch  the  passing  throng.  There 
was  something  thrilling  in  the  jostling  crowds,  and 
the  electric  signs  flashing  out  one  by  one  down  the 
long  gay  thoroughfare. 

Post-Office  Square,  at  the  end  of  the  day,  was 
always  littered  with  papers  and  trash.  In  its  center 
was  a  battered,  weather  kiosk,  and  facing  it,  was  a 
huge  electric  advertisement  which  indulged  in  the 
glittering  generality,  that  "  You  get  what  you  pay 
for." 

It  was  not  a  place  to  inspire  romance,  yet  every 
Saturday  its  benches  were  crowded  with  boys  and 
girls  who  had  no  place  to  visit  except  on  the  street. 

Through  the  long  spring  dusks,  with  their  tender 
skies  and  silver  stars,  Nance  and  Dan  kept  company, 


158  CALVARY  ALLEY 

unconcerned  with  the  past  or  the  future,  wholly  con 
tent  with  the  May-time  of  the  present.  At  a  word 
or  touch  from  Dan,  Nance's  inflammable  nature 
would  have  taken  fire  but  Dan,  under  Mrs.  Purdy's 
influence,  was  passing  through  an  acute  stage  of 
religious  conversion,  and  all  desires  of  the  flesh  were 
sternly  repressed  by  that  new  creed  to  which  he  was 
making  such  heroic  efforts  to  conform.  With  the 
zeal  of  a  new  convert,  he  considered  it  his  duty  to 
guard  his  small  companion  against  all  love-making, 
including  his  own. 

Nance  at  an  early  age  had  developed  a  protective 
code  that  even  without  Dan's  forbidding  looks  and 
constant  surveillance  might  have  served  its  purpose. 
Despite  the  high  spirits  and  free  speech  that  brought 
her  so  many  admiring  glances  from  the  boys  in  the 
factory,  it  was  soon  understood  that  the  "  Molloy 
kid  "  was  not  to  be  trifled  with. 

"  Say,  little  Sister,  I  like  your  looks,"  Bean  had 
said  to  her  one  morning  when  they  were  alone  in  the 
hall.  "  It 's  more  than  I  do  yours,"  Nance  had  an 
swered  coolly,  with  a  critical  glance  at  his  pimply 
nose. 

As  summer  came  on,  the  work,  which  at  first  was 
so  difficult,  gradually  became  automatic,  and  while 
her  shoulders  always  ached,  and  her  feet  were 
always  tired,  she  ceased  for  the  most  part  to  think 
of  them.  It  was  the  confinement  that  told  upon  her, 
and  when  the  long  bright  days  came,  and  she  thought 


EIGHT  TO  SIX  159 

of  Forest  Home  and  its  woods  and  streams,  her  rest 
lessness  increased.  The  stifling  finishing  room,  the 
endless  complaints  of  the  girls,  and  the  everlasting 
crunching  of  glass  under  foot  were  at  times  almost 
unendurable. 

One  day  when  the  blue  of  the  sky  could  not  be 
dimmed  even  by  factory  smoke,  and  the  air  was  full 
of  enticement,  Nance  slipped  out  at  the  noon  hour, 
and,  watching  her  chance,  darted  across  the  factory 
yard  out  through  the  stables,  to  the  road  beyond.  A 
decrepit  old  elm-tree,  which  had  evidently  made 
heroic  effort  to  keep  tryst  with  the  spring,  was  the 
one  touch  of  green  in  an  otherwise  barren  land 
scape.  Scrambling  up  the  bank,  Nance  flung  her 
self  on  the  ground  beneath  its  branches,  and  between 
the  bites  of  a  dry  sandwich,  proceeded  to  give  vent 
to  some  of  her  surplus  vitality. 

"Arra,  come  in,  Barney  McKane,  out  of  the  rain," 
she  sang  at  the  top  of  her  voice. 

"  And  sit  down  until  the  moon  comes  out  again, 

Sure  a  cup  of  tay  I  '11  brew,  just  enough  for  me  and  you, 

We  '11    snuggle    up    together,    and   we  '11   talk    about    tbe 

weather, 

Do  you  hear?     Barney  dear,  there's  a  queer 
Sort  of  feelin'  round  me  heart,  that  gives  me  pain, 
And  I  think  the  likes  o'  me  could  learn  to  like  the  likes 

o'  ye, 
Arra,  come  in,  Barney  McKane,  out  of  the  rain !  " 

So  absorbed  was  she  in  trying  operatic  effects  that 


160  CALVARY  ALLEY 

she  did  not  notice  an  approaching  automobile  until 
it  came  to  a  stop  in  the  road  below. 

"  Hi  there,  Sembrich ! "  commanded  a  fresh 
young  voice,  the  owner  of  which  emphasized  his 
salute  with  his  horn,  "  are  you  one  of  the  factory 
kids?" 

Nance  rose  to  a  sitting  posture. 

"  What 's  it  to  you  ?  "  she  asked,  instantly  on  the 
defensive. 

"  I  want  to  know  if  Mr.  Clarke  's  come  in.  Have 
you  seen  him?" 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Nance,  to  whom  Mr.  Clarke 
was  as  vague  as  the  Deity;  then  she  added  good- 
naturedly,  "  I  '11  go  find  out  if  you  want  me  to." 

The  young  man  shut  off  his  engine  and,  transfer 
ring  two  struggling  pigeons  from  his  left  hand  to 
his  right,  dismounted. 

"Never  mind,"  he  said.  "I'll  go  myself. 
Road  's  too  rotten  to  take  the  machine  in."  Then 
he  hesitated.  "  I  say,  will  you  hold  these  con 
founded  birds  'til  I  come  back?  Won't  be  gone  a 
minute.  Just  want  to  speak  to  the  governor." 

Nance  scrambled  down  the  bank  and  accepted  the 
fluttering  charges,  then  watched  with  liveliest  inter 
est  the  buoyant  figure  in  the  light  suit  go  swinging 
up  the  road.  There  was  something  tantalizingly 
familiar  in  his  quick,  imperious  manner  and  his 
brown,  irresponsible  eyes.  In  her  first  confusion  of 
mind  she  thought  he  must  be  the  prince  come  to  life 


EIGHT  TO  SIX  161 

out  of  Mr.  Demry's  old  fairy  tale.  Then  she  caught 
her  breath. 

"  I  believe  it 's  that  Clarke  boy ! "  she  thought, 
with  rising  excitement,  "  I  wonder  if  he  'd  remem 
ber  the  fight?  I  wonder  if  he  'd  remember  me ?  " 

She  went  over  to  the  automobile  and  ran  her 
fingers  over  the  silver  initials  on  the  door. 

"  M.  D.  C,"  she  repeated.     "  It  is  him !     It  is !  " 

In  the  excitement  of  her  discovery  she  relaxed  her 
grasp  on  the  pigeons,  and  one  of  them  escaped.  In 
vain  she  whistled  and  coaxed;  it  hopped  about  in 
the  tree  overhead  and  then  soared  away  to  larger 
freedom. 

Nance  was  aghast  at  the  catastrophe.  She  did 
not  wait  for  the  owner's  return,  but  rushed  headlong 
down  the  road  to  meet  him. 

"  I  let  one  of  'em  go !  "  she  cried  in  consternation, 
as  he  vaulted  the  fence  and  came  toward  her.  "  I 
would  n't  'a'  done  it  for  anything  in  the  world.  But 
I  '11  pay  you  for  it,  a  little  each  week.  Honest  I 
will !  " 

The  handsome  boyish  face  above  her  clouded  in 
stantly. 

"  You  let  it  go?  "  he  repeated  furiously.  "  You 
little  fool  you!  How  did  you  do  it?  " 

Nance  looked  at  him  for  a  moment ;  then  she  de 
liberately  lifted  the  other  pigeon  as  high  as  she 
could  reach  and  opened  her  hand. 

"  Like  that !  "  she  cried. 


162  CALVARY  ALLEY 

Mac  Clarke  watched  his  second  bird  wheel  into 
space;  then  his  amazed  glance  dropped  to  the  slim 
figure  of  the  young  girl  in  her  short  gingham  dress, 
with  the  sunlight  shining  on  her  hair  and  on  her 
bright,  defiant  eyes. 

"  You  've  got  your  nerve !  "  he  said  with  a  short 
laugh ;  then  he  climbed  into  his  car  and,  with  several 
backward  glances  of  mingled  anger  and  amusement, 
drove  away. 

Nance  related  the  incident  with  great  gusto  to 
Dan  that  night  on  the  way  home. 

"  He  never  recognized  me,  but  I  knew  him  right 
off.  Same  old  Smart  Aleck,  calling  people  names." 

"  I  was  up  in  the  office  when  he  come  in,"  said 
Dan.  "  He  'd  been  held  up  for  speeding  and  wanted 
his  father  to  pay  his  fine." 

"Did  he  do  it?" 

"  Of  course.  Mac  always  gets  what  he  wants. 
He  told  Bean  he  was  n't  going  to  stay  at  that  school 
in  Virginia  if  he  had  to  make  'em  expel  him.  Sure 
enough  they  did.  Would  n't  I  like  to  have  his 
chance  though !  " 

"  I  don't  blame  him  for  not  wanting  to  go  to 
school,"  said  Nance.  Then  she  added  absently, 
"  Say,  he 's  got  to  be  a  awful  swell-looker,  has  n't 
he?" 

That  night,  for  the  first  time,  she  objected  to  stop 
ping  in  Post-Office  Square. 

"  It  ain't  any  fun  to  hang  around  there,"  she  said 


EIGHT  TO  SIX  163 

impatiently.  "  I  'm  sick  of  doing  tame  things  all  the 
time." 

The  next  time  Nance  saw  Mac  Clarke  was  toward 
the  close  of  the  summer.  Through  the  long  swelter 
ing  hours  of  an  interminable  August  morning  she 
had  filed  and  chipped  bottles  with  an  accuracy  and 
speed  that  no  longer  gave  cause  for  criticism.  The 
months  of  confinement  were  beginning  to  tell  upon 
her;  her  bright  color  was  gone,  and  she  no  longer 
had  the  energy  at  the  noon  hour  to  go  down  the 
road  to  the  elm-tree.  She  wanted  above  all  things 
to  stretch  out  at  full  length  and  rest  her  back  and 
relax  all  those  tense  muscles  that  were  so  reluctantly 
learning  to  hold  one  position  for  hours  at  a  time. 

At  the  noon  hour  she  had  the  unexpected  diver 
sion  of  a  visit  from  Birdie  Smelts.  Birdie  had 
achieved  her  cherished  ambition  of  going  on  the 
stage,  and  was  now  a  chorus  girl  in  the  "  Rag  Time 
Follies."  Meager  news  of  her  had  reached  the 
alley  from  time  to  time,  but  nobody  was  prepared 
for  the  very  pretty  and  sophisticated  young  person 
who  condescended  to  accept  board  and  lodging  from 
her  humble  parents  during  the  interval  between  her 
engagements.  Nance  was  genuinely  glad  to  see  her 
and  especially  gratified  by  the  impression  her  white 
coat-suit  and  black  picture  hat  made  on  the  finishing 
room. 

"  It  must  be  grand  to  be  on  the  stage,"  said  Gert 
enviously. 


1 64  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  Well,  it 's  living,"  said  Birdie,  airily.  "  That  's 
more  than  you  can  claim  for  this  rotten  grind." 

She  put  a  high-heeled,  white-shod  foot  on  the  win 
dow  ledge  to  adjust  its  bow,  and  every  eye  in  the 
room  followed  the  process. 

"  I  bet  I  make  more  money  in  a  week,"  she  con 
tinued  dramatically,  "  than  you  all  make  in  a  month. 
And  look  at  your  hands !  Why,  they  could  n't  pay 
me  enough  to  have  my  hands  scarred  up  like  that!  " 

"  It  ain't  my  hands  that 's  worryin'  me,"  said  an 
other  girl.  "  It 's  my  feet.  Say,  the  destruction  on 
your  shoes  is  somethin'  fierce!  You  orter  see  this 
here  room  some  nights  at  closin'  time ;  it 's  that  thick 
with  glass  you  don't  know  where  to  step." 

"  I  'd  know,"  said  Birdie.  "  I  'd  step  down  and 
out,  and  don't  you  forget  it." 

Nance  had  been  following  the  conversation  in 
troubled  silence. 

"  I  don't  mind  the  work  so  awful  much,"  she  said 
restlessly.  "  What  gets  me  is  never  having  any  fun. 
I  have  n't  danced  a  step  since  I  left  Forest  Home, 
Birdie." 

"  You  'd  get  your  fill  of  it  if  you  was  with  me," 
Birdie  said  importantly.  "  Seven  nights  a  week  and 
two  matinees." 

"  'Twould  n't  be  any  too  much  for  me,"  said 
Nance.  "  I  could  dance  in  my  sleep." 

Birdie  was  sitting  in  the  window  now,  ostensibly 


EIGHT  TO  SIX  165 

examining  her  full  red  lips  in  a  pocket-mirror,  but  in 
reality  watching  the  factory  yard  below. 

"  There  goes  your  whistle!  "she  said,  getting  up 
suddenly.  "  Say,  Nance,  can't  you  scare  up  an 
excuse  to  hook  off  this  afternoon?  I  '11  take  you  to 
a  show  if  you  will !  " 

Nance's  pulses  leapt  at  the  thought,  but  she  shook 
her  head  and  went  reluctantly  back  to  her  bench. 
For  the  next  ten  minutes  her  fingers  lagged  at  their 
task,  and  she  grew  more  and  more  discontented. 
All  the  youth  in  her  clamored  suddenly  for  freedom. 
She  was  tired  of  being  the  slave  of  a  whistle,  a  cog 
in  a  machine.  With  a  sudden  rash  impulse  she 
threw  down  her  tools  and,  slipping  her  hat  from  its 
peg,  went  in  swift  pursuit  of  Birdie. 

At  the  foot  of  the  narrow  stairs  she  came  to  a 
sudden  halt.  Outside  the  door,  in  the  niche  made 
by  the  gas-pipe  and  the  adjoining  wall,  stood  Mac 
Clarke  and  Birdie.  He  had  his  arms  about  her,  and 
there  was  a  look  in  his  face  that  Nance  had  never 
seen  in  a  man's  face  before.  Of  course  it  was 
meant  for  the  insolent  eyes  under  the  picture  hat, 
but  instead  it  fell  on  Nance  standing  in  the  doorway. 
For  a  full  minute  his  ardent  gaze  held  her  captive; 
then  he  dropped  his  arms  in  sudden  embarrassment, 
and  she  melted  out  of  the  doorway  and  fled  noise 
lessly  up  the  stairway. 

On  the  upper  landing  she  suffered  a  head-on  col- 


1 66  CALVARY  ALLEY 

lision  with  the  foreman,  who  demanded  in  no  gentle 
tones  what  in  the  devil  she  was  doing  out  there  with 
her  hat  on  at  that  hour. 

"  None  of  your  business,"  said  Nance,  recklessly. 

Bean  looked  at  her  flashing  eyes  and  flushed  face, 
and  laughed.  She  was  the  youngest  girl  in  the  fac 
tory  and  the  only  one  who  was  not  afraid  of  him. 

"  See  here,"  he  said,  "  I  am  going  to  kiss  you  or 
fire  you.  Which  '11  you  have?  " 

Nance  dodged  his  outstretched  hand  and  reached 
the  top  step. 

"  You  won't  do  neither !  "  she  cried  fiercely. 
"  You  can't  fire  me,  because  I  fired  myself  ten 
minutes  ago,  and  I  would  n't  kiss  you  to  stay  in 
heaven,  let  alone  a  damned  old  bottle  factory !  " 

It  was  the  Nance  of  the  slums  who  spoke  —  the 
Nance  whose  small  bare  fists  had  fought  the  world 
too  long  for  the  knuckles  to  be  tender.  She  had 
drifted  a  long  way  from  the  carefully  acquired  re 
finements  of  Forest  Home,  but  its  influence,  like  a 
dragging  anchor,  still  sought  to  hold  her  against  the 
oncoming  gales  of  life. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

IDLENESS 

WHEN  one  has  a  famishing  thirst  for  happi 
ness,  one  is  apt  to  gulp  down  diversions 
wherever  they  are  offered.  The  necessity  of  drain 
ing  the  dregs  of  life  before  the  wine  is  savored  does 
not  cultivate  a  discriminating  taste.  Nance  saw  in 
Birdie  Smelts  her  one  chance  of  escape  from  the 
deadly  monotony  of  life,  and  she  seized  it  with 
both  hands.  Birdie  might  not  be  approved  of  her 
seniors,  but  she  was  a  disturbingly  important  person 
to  her  juniors.  To  them  it  seemed  nothing  short  of 
genius  for  a  girl,  born  as  they  were  in  the  sordid 
environs  of  Calvary  Alley,  to  side-step  school  and 
factory  and  soar  away  into  the  paradise  of  stage- 
land.  When  such  an  authority  gives  counsel,  it  is 
not  to  be  ignored.  Birdie's  advice  had  been  to  quit 
the  factory,  and  Nance  had  taken  the  plunge  with 
out  any  idea  of  what  she  was  going  to  put  in  its 
place. 

For  some  reason  best  known  to  herself,  she  never 
mentioned  that  episode  in  the  factory  yard  to  either 
Birdie  or  Dan  Lewis.  There  were  many  things 

167 


1 68  CALVARY  ALLEY 

about  Birdie  that  she  did  not  like,  and  she  knew  only 
too  well  what  Miss  Stanley  would  have  said.  But 
then  Miss  Stanley  would  n't  have  approved  of  Mr. 
Demry  and  his  dope,  or  Mrs.  Snawdor  and  her  beer, 
or  Mag  Gist,  with  her  loud  voice  and  coarse  jokes. 
When  one  lives  in  Calvary  Alley,  one  has  to  com 
promise;  it  is  seldom  the  best  or  the  next  best  one 
can  afford,  even  in  friends. 

When  Mrs.  Snawdor  heard  that  Nance  had  quit 
work,  she  was  furious.  Who  was  Nance  Molloy, 
she  wanted  to  know,  to  go  and  stick  up  her  nose  at  a 
glass  factory?  There  wasn't  a  bloomin'  thing  the 
matter  with  Clarke's.  She  'd  begun  in  a  factory  an' 
look  at  her!  What  was  Nance  a-goin'  to  do? 
Run  the  streets  with  Birdie  Smelts?  It  was  bad 
enough,  God  knew,  to  have  Snawdor  settin'  around 
like  a  tombstone,  an'  Fidy  a-havin'  a  fit  if  you  so 
much  as  looked  at  her,  without  havin'  Nance  eatin' 
'em  out  of  house  an'  home  an'  not  bringin'  in  a  cop 
per  cent.  If  she  stayed  at  home,  she  'd  have  to  do 
the  work ;  that  was  all  there  was  to  it ! 

"  Annybody  'd  think  jobs  happened  around  as  reg- 
erlar  as  the  rent  man,"  she  ended  bitterly.  '  You  '11 
see  the  day  when  you  're  glad  enough  to  go  back  to 
the  factory." 

Before  the  month  was  over,  Nance  began  to  won 
der  if  Mrs.  Snawdor  was  right.  With  unabating 
zeal  she  tramped  the  streets,  answering  advertise 
ments,  applying  at  stores,  visiting  agencies.  But 


IDLENESS  169 

despite  the  fact  that  she  unblushingly  recommended 
herself  in  the  highest  terms,  nobody  seemed  to  trust 
so  young  and  inexperienced  an  applicant. 

Meanwhile  Birdie  Smelts's  thrilling  prospect  of 
joining  her  company  at  an  early  date  threw  other 
people's  sordid  possibilities  into  the  shade.  Every 
night  she  practised  gymnastics  and  dance  steps,  and 
there  being  no  room  in  the  Smelts'  flat,  she  got  into 
the  habit  of  coming  up  to  Nance's  room. 

One  of  the  conditions  upon  which  Nance  had  been 
permitted  to  return  to  Calvary  Alley,  was  that  she 
should  not  sleep  in  the  same  bed  with  Fidy  Yager,  a 
condition  which  enraged  Mrs.  Snawdor  more  than 
all  the  rest. 

"  Annybody  'd  think  Fidy's  fits  was  ketchin',"  she 
complained  indignantly  to  Uncle  Jed. 

"  That  there  front  room  of  mine  ain't  doin'  any 
body  no  good,"  suggested  Uncle  Jed.  "  We  might 
let  Nance  have  that." 

So  to  Nance's  great  joy  she  was  given  a  big  room 
all  to  herself.  The  slat  bed,  the  iron  wash-stand, 
the  broken-legged  chair,  and  the  wavy  mirror  were 
the  only  articles  that  Mrs.  Snawdor  was  willing  to 
part  with,  but  Uncle  Jed  donated  a  battered  stove, 
which  despite  its  rust-eaten  top  and  sagging  door, 
still  proclaimed  itself  a  "  Little  Jewel." 

No  bride,  adorning  her  first  abode,  ever  arranged 
her  possessions  with  more  enthusiasm  than  did 
Nance.  She  scrubbed  the  rough  floor,  washed  the 


1 70  CALVARY  ALLEY 

windows,  and  polished  the  "  Little  Jewel  "  until  it 
shone.  The  first  money  she  could  save  out  of  her 
factory  earnings  had  gone  to  settle  that  four-year- 
old  debt  to  Mr.  Lavinski  for  the  white  slippers;  the 
next  went  for  bedclothes  and  cheese-cloth  window 
curtains.  Her  ambition  was  no  longer  for  the 
chintz  hangings  and  gold- framed  fruit  pieces  of  Mrs. 
Purdy's  cottage,  but  looked  instead  toward  the  im 
maculate  and  austere  bedroom  of  Miss  Stanley,  with 
its  "  Melodonna  "  over  the  bed  and  a  box  of  bloom 
ing  plants  on  the  window-sill. 

Such  an  ideal  of  classic  simplicity  was  fore 
doomed  to  failure.  Mrs.  Snawdor,  like  nature,  ab 
horred  a  vacuum.  An  additional  room  to  her  was  a 
sluice  in  the  dyke,  and  before  long  discarded  pots 
and  pans,  disabled  furniture,  the  children's  dilapi 
dated  toys,  and,  finally,  the  children  themselves  were 
allowed  to  overflow  into  Nance's  room.  In  vain 
Nance  got  up  at  daybreak  to  make  things  tidy  before 
going  to  work.  At  night  when  she  returned,  the 
washing  would  be  hung  in  her  room  to  dry,  or  the 
twins  would  be  playing  circus  in  the  middle  of  her 
cherished  bed. 

"  It 's  lots  harder  when  you  know  how  things 
ought  to  be,  than  when  you  just  go  on  living  in  the 
mess,  and  don't  know  the  difference,"  she  com 
plained  bitterly  to  Birdie. 

"  I  Ve  had  my  fill  of  it,"  said  Birdie.  "  I  kiss  my 
hand  to  the  alley  for  good  this  time.  What  do  you 


IDLENESS  171 

reckon  the  fellers  would  think  of  me  if  they  knew  I 
hung  out  in  a  hole  like  this  ?  " 

"  Does  he  know  ?  "  asked  Nance  in  an  unguarded 
moment. 

"Who?" 

"  Mac  Clarke." 

Birdie  shot  a  glance  of  swift  suspicion  at  her. 

"What's  he  got  to  do  with  me?"  she  asked 
coldly. 

"  Ain't  he  one  of  your  fellers?  " 

"  Well,  if  he  is,  it  ain't  anybody's  business  but 
mine."  Then  evidently  repenting  her  harshness,  she 
added,  "  I  got  tickets  to  a  dance-hall  up-town  to 
night.  I  '11  take  you  along  if  you  want  to  look  on. 
You  would  n't  catch  me  dancing  with  any  of  those 
roughnecks." 

Nance  found  looking  on  an  agonizing  business. 
Not  that  she  wanted  to  dance  with  the  roughnecks 
any  more  than  Birdie  did.  Their  common  experi 
ence  at  Forest  Home  had  given  them  certain  stand 
ards  of  speech  and  manner  that  lifted  them  just 
enough  above  their  kind  to  be  scornful.  But  to  sit 
against  the  wall  watching  other  people  dance  was 
nothing  short  of  agony  to  one  of  Nance's  tempera 
ment. 

"  Come  on  and  have  a  try  with  me,  Birdie,"  she 
implored.  "  I  '11. pay  the  dime."  And  Birdie,  with 
professional  disdain,  condescended  to  circle  the 
room  with  her  a  few  times. 


172  CALVARY  ALLEY 

That  first  dance  was  to  Nance  what  the  taste  of 
blood  is  to  a  young  tiger.  For  days  after  she  could 
think  of  nothing  else. 

"  Never  you  mind,"  Birdie  promised  her. 
"  when  I  get  back  on  the  road,  I  'm  going  to  see 
what  I  can  do  for  you.  Somebody  's  always  falling 
out  of  the  chorus,  and  if  you  keep  up  this  practising 
with  me,  you  '11  be  dancing  as  good  as  any  of  'em. 
Ask  old  man  Demry ;  he  played  in  the  orchestra  last 
time  we  was  at  the  Gaiety." 

But  when  Nance  threw  out  a  few  cautious  re 
marks  to  Mr.  Demry,  she  met  with  prompt  discour 
agement  : 

"  No,  no,  my  dear  child,"  he  said  uneasily. 
"  You  must  put  that  idea  out  of  your  head.  The 
chorus  is  no  place  for  a  nice  girl." 

"  That 's  what  Dan  says  about  the  factory,  and 
what  Mrs.  Snawdor  says  about  housework,  and  what 
somebody  says  about  everything  I  start  to  do. 
Looks  like  being  a  nice  girl  don't  pay!  " 

Mr.  Demry  took  her  petulant  little  chin  in  his  thin 
old  hand,  and  turned  her  face  up  to  his. 

"  Nancy,"  he  said,  "  these  old  eyes  have  seen  a 
good  deal  over  the  fiddle  strings.  I  would  rather 
see  you  go  back  to  the  glass  factory,  bad  as  it  is,  than 
to  go  into  the  chorus." 

"  But  I  do  dance  as  good  as  some  of  the  girls, 
don't  I,  Mr.  Demry?"  she  teased,  and  Mr.  Demry, 


IDLENESS  173 

whose  pride  in  an  old  pupil  was  considerable,  had 
to  acknowledge  that  she  did. 

Uncle  Jed's  attitude  was  scarcely  more  encourag 
ing. 

"  No ;  I  would  n't  be  willin'  to  see  you  a  play 
actor,"  he  said,  "  walkin'  round  in  skin  tights,  with 
your  face  all  painted  up." 

Nance  knew  before  asking  that  Dan  would  dis 
approve,  but  she  could  n't  resist  mentioning  the 
matter  to  him. 

"  That  Birdie  Smelts  has  been  putting  notions  in 
your  head,"  he  said  sternly.  "  I  wish  you  'd  quit 
runnin'  with  girls  older  than  you.  Besides,  Birdie 
ain't  your  kind." 

"  I  'd  like  to  know  why?  "  Nance  challenged  him 
in  instant  loyalty  to  her  friend.  "  Besides,  who 
else  have  I  got  to  run  with?  Maybe  you  think  it 
ain't  stupid  drudging  around  home  all  day  and  never 
having  a  cent  to  call  my  own.  1  want  to  get  out  and 
do  something." 

Dan  looked  down  at  her  in  troubled  silence. 

"  Mrs.  Purdy  's  always  asking  me  why  I  don't 
bring  you  to  some  of  the  meetings  at  the  church. 
They  have  real  nice  socials." 

"  I  don't  want  to  pray  and  sing  silly  old  hymns !  " 
cried  Nance.  "  I  want  to  dance." 

"  I  don't  believe  in  dancing,"  said  Dan,  firmly ; 
then  with  a  side-glance  at  her  unhappy  face,  he 


174  CALVARY  ALLEY 

added,  "  I  can't  take  you  to  the  swimming  school, 
because  they  don't  allow  girls,  but  I  might  take  you 
to  the  new  skating-rink  some  Saturday." 

In  an  instant  Nance  was  all  enthusiasm. 

"  Will  you,  Dan?  I  'm  just  crazy  about  skating. 
We  used  to  do  it  out  at  the  home.  You  ought  to 
see  Birdie  and  me  do  a  Dutch  roll.  Say,  let 's  take 
her  along.  What  do  you  say?  " 

Dan  was  not  at  all  in  favor  of  it,  but  Nance  in 
sisted. 

"  I  think  we  ought  to  be  nice  to  Birdie  on  ac 
count  of  Mr.  Smelts'  stiff  leg.  Not  that  it  ever  did 
him  any  good  when  it  was  limber,  but  I  always  feel 
mean  when  I  see  it  sticking  out  straight  when  he 
sits  down." 

This  was  a  bit  of  feminine  wile  on  Nance's  part, 
and  it  had  the  desired  effect.  Dan,  always  vulner 
able  when  his  sympathy  was  roused,  reluctantly  in 
cluded  Birdie  in  the  invitation. 

On  the  Saturday  night  appointed,  the  three  of 
them  set  out  for  the  skating  rink.  Dan,  with  his 
neck  rigid  in  a  high  collar  and  his  hair  plastered 
close  to  his  head,  stalked  somberly  beside  the  two 
girls,  who  walked  arm  in  arm  and  giggled  immod 
erately  at  each  other's  witticisms. 

"  Wake  up,  Daniel !  "  said  Birdie,  giving  his  hat 
a  tilt.  "  We  engaged  you  for  a  escort,  not  a  pall 
bearer." 

The  rink  was  in  an  old  armory,  and  the  musi- 


IDLENESS  175 

cians  sat  at  one  end  of  the  room  on  a  raised  plat 
form  under  two  drooping  flags.  It  was  dusty  and 
noisy,  and  the  crowd  was  promiscuous,  but  to 
Nance  it  was  Elysium.  When  she  and  Birdie,  with 
Dan  between  them,  began  to  circle  the  big  room  to 
the  rhythm  of  music,  her  joy  was  complete. 

"  Hullo !  Dan  Lewis  is  carrying  two,"  she  heard 
some  one  say  as  they  circled  past  the  entrance. 
Glancing  back,  she  saw  it  was  one  of  the  boys  from 
the  factory.  A  sudden  impulse  seized  her  to  stop 
and  explain  the  matter  to  him,  but  instead  she  fol 
lowed  quite  a  contrary  purpose  and  detaching  her 
self  from  her  companions,  struck  out  boldly  for 
herself. 

Before  she  had  been  on  the  floor  ten  minutes  peo 
ple  began  to  watch  her.  Her  plain,  neat  dress  set 
ting  off  her  trim  figure,  and  her  severe,  black  sailor 
hat  above  the  shining  bands  of  fair  hair,  were  in 
sharp  contrast  to  the  soiled  finery  and  draggled 
plumes  of  the  other  girls.  But  it  was  not  entirely 
her  appearance  that  attracted  attention.  It  was  a 
certain  independent  verve,  a  high-headed  indiffer 
ence,  that  made  her  reject  even  the  attentions  of 
the  rink-master,  a  superior  person  boasting  a  pompa 
dour  and  a  turquoise  ring. 

No  one  could  have  guessed  that  behind  that  non 
chalant  air  Nance  was  hiding  a  new  and  profoundly 
disturbing  emotion.  The  sight  of  Birdie,  clinging 
in  affected  terror  to  Dan  Lewis,  filled  her  with  rage. 


176  CALVARY  ALLEY 

Could  n't  Dan  see  that  Birdie  was  pretending  ? 
Did  n't  he  know  that  she  could  skate  by  herself  quite 
as  well  as  he  could?  Never  once  during  the  eve 
ning  did  Dan  make  his  escape,  and  never  once  did 
Nance  go  to  his  rescue. 

When  they  were  taking  off  their  skates  to  go 
home,  Birdie  whispered  to  her: 

"  I  believe  I  got  old  slow-coach  going.  Watch 
me  make  him  smoke  up  for  a  treat !  " 

"  No,  you  sha'n't,"  Nance  said.  "  Dan  's  spent 
enough  on  us  for  one  night." 

"  Another  quarter  won't  break  him,"  said  Birdie. 
"  I  'm  as  dry  as  a  piece  of  chalk." 

Ten  minutes  later  she  landed  the  little  party  in 
a  drug  store  and  entered  into  a  spirited  discussion 
with  the  soda-water  boy  as  to  the  comparative  merits 
of  sundry  new  drinks. 

"Me  for  a  cabaret  fizz,"  she  said.  "  What '11 
you  have,  Nance?  " 

"  Nothing,"  said  Nance,  sullenly,  turning  and 
taking  up  her  stand  at  the  door. 

"What  do  you  want,  Dan?"  persisted  Birdie, 
adding,  with  a  mischievous  wink  at  the  white- 
coated  clerk,  "  Give  him  a  ginger  ale ;  he  needs  stim 
ulating." 

While  Birdie  talked  for  the  benefit  of  the  clerk, 
and  Dan  sat  beside  her,  sipping  his  distasteful  gin 
ger,  Nance  stood  at  the  door  and  watched  the  peo- 


IDLENESS  177 

pie  pouring  out  of  the  Gaiety  Theater  next  door. 
Ordinarily  the  bright  evening  wraps,  the  glimpses 
of  sparkling  jewels,  the  gay  confusion  of  the  scene 
would  have  excited  her  liveliest  interest,  but  to 
night  she  was  too  busy  hating  Birdie  Smelts  to  think 
of  anything  else.  What  right  had  she  to  monop 
olize  Dan  like  that  and  order  him  about  and  laugh 
at  him?  What  right  had  she  to  take  his  arm  when 
they  walked,  or  put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder  as  she 
was  doing- this  minute? 

Suddenly  Nance  started  and  leaned  forward. 
Out  there  in  the  crowded  street  a  tall,  middle-aged 
man,  with  grizzled  hair  and  mustache,  was  some 
what  imperiously  making  way  for  a  pretty,  delicate- 
looking  lady  enveloped  in  white  furs,  and  behind 
them,  looking  very  handsome  and  immaculate  in  his 
evening  clothes,  walked  Mac  Clarke. 

Nance's  eager  eyes  followed  the  group  to  the  curb 
ing;  she  saw  the  young  man  glance  at  her  with  a 
puzzled  expression ;  then,  as  he  stood  aside  to  allow 
the  lady  to  enter  the  motor,  he  looked  again.  For 
the  fraction  of  a  second  their  eyes  held  each  other; 
then  an  expression  of  amused  recognition  sprang 
into  his  face,  and  Nance  met  it  instantly  with  a 
flash  of  her  white  teeth. 

The  next  instant  the  limousine  swallowed  him ;  a 
door  slammed,  and  the  car  moved  away.  But 
Nance,  utterly  forgetful  of  her  recent  discomfort, 


178  CALVARY  ALLEY 

still  stood  in  the  door  of  the  drug  store,  tingling 
with  excitement  as  she  watched  a  little  red  light 
until  it  lost  itself  in  the  other  moving  lights  on  the 
broad  thoroughfare. 


CHAPTER  XV 

MARKING   TIME 

EARLY  in  the  autumn  Birdie  took  flight  from 
the  alley,  and  Nance  found  herself  hopelessly 
engulfed  in  domestic  affairs.  Mr.  Snawdor,  who 
had  been  doing  the  work  during  her  long  absence, 
took  advantage  of  her  return  to  have  malarial  fever. 
He  had  been  trying  to  have  it  for  months,  but  could 
never  find  the  leisure  hour  in  which  to  indulge  in 
the  preliminary  chill.  Once  having  tasted  the  joys 
of  invalidism  he  was  loathe  to  forego  them,  and 
insisted  upon  being  regarded  as  a  chronic  conva 
lescent.  Nance  might  have  managed  Mr.  Snawdor, 
however,  had  it  not  been  for  the  grave  problem  of 
Fidy  Yager. 

"  Ike  Lavinski  says  she  ought  to  be  in  a  hospital 
some  place,"  she  urged  Mrs.  Snawdor.  "  He  says 
she  never  is  going  to  be  any  better.  He  says  it 's 
epilepsy." 

"  Well,  he  ain't  tellin'  me  anything'  I  don't  know," 
said  Mrs.  Snawdor,  "  but  I  ain't  goin'  to  put  her 
away,  not  if  she  th'ows  a  fit  a  minute!  " 

It  was  not  maternal  solicitude  alone  that  prompted 
179 


i8o  CALVARY  ALLEY 

this  declaration.  The  State  allowed  seventy-five 
dollars  a  year  to  parents  of  epileptic  children,  and 
Mrs.  Snawdor  had  found  Fidy  a  valuable  asset. 
Just  what  her  being  kept  at  home  cost  the  other 
children  was  never  reckoned. 

"  Well,  I  '11  take  care  of  her  on  one  condition," 
stipulated  Nance.  "  You  got  to  keep  Lobelia  at 
school.  It  ain't  fair  for  her  to  have  to  stay  home 
to  nurse  Fidy." 

"  Well,  if  she  goes  to  school,  she's  got  to  work 
at  night.  You  was  doin'  your  two  hours  at  La- 
vinski's  long  before  you  was  her  age." 

"  I  don't  care  if  I  was.  Lobelia  ain't  strong 
like  me.  I  tell  you  she  ain't  goin'  to  do  home  fin 
ishing,  not  while  I  'm  here." 

"  Well,  somebody 's  got  to  do  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Snawdor.  "  You  can  settle  it  between  you." 

Nance  held  out  until  the  middle  of  January;  then 
in  desperation  she  went  back  to  the  Lavinskis. 
The  rooms  looked  just  as  she  had  left  them,  and 
the  whirring  machines  seemed  never  to  have 
stopped.  The  acrid  smell  of  hot  cloth  still  mingled 
with  the  odor  of  pickled  herrings,  and  Mr.  Lavin- 
ski  still  came  and  went  with  his  huge  bundles  of 
clothes. 

Nance  no  longer  sewed  on  buttons.  She  was 
promoted  to  a  place  under  the  swinging  lamp  where 
she  was  expected  to  make  an  old  decrepit  sewing- 
machine  forget  its  ailments  and  run  the  same  race 


MARKING  TIME  181 

it  had  run  in  the  days  of  its  youth.  As  she  took 
her  seat  on  the  first  night,  she  looked  up  curiously. 
A  new  sound  coming  regularly  from  the  inner  room 
made  her  pause. 

"  Is  that  a  type-writer?  "  she  asked  incredulously. 

Mr.  Lavinski,  pushing  his  derby  from  his  shining 
brow,  smiled  proudly. 

"  Dat  's  vat  it  is,"  he  said.  "  My  Ike,  he  's  got 
a  scholarship  offen  de  high  school.  He  's  vorking 
his  vay  through  de  medical  college  now.  He  '11  be 
a  big  doctor  some  day.  He  vill  cure  my  Leah." 

Nance's  ambition  took  fire  at  the  thought  of  that 
type-writer.  It  appealed  to  her  far  more  than  the 
sewing-machine. 

"  Say,  Ike,"  she  said  at  her  first  opportunity,  "  I 
wish  you  'd  teach  me  how  to  work  it." 

"  What  '11  you  give  me?"  asked  Ike,  gravely. 
He  had  grown  into  a  tall,  thin  youth,  with  the  spec 
tacled  eyes  and  stooped  shoulders  of  a  student. 

"  Want  me  to  wash  the  dishes  for  your  mother?  " 
Nance  suggested  eagerly.  "  I  could  do  it  nights 
before  I  begin  sewing." 

"  Very  well,"  Ike  agreed  loftily.  "  We  '11  begin 
next  Sunday  morning  at  nine  o'clock.  Mind  you 
are  on  time!  " 

Knowledge  to  Ike  was  sacred,  and  the  imparting 
of  it  almost  a  religious  rite.  He  frowned  down  all 
flippancy  on  the  part  of  his  new  pupil,  and  de 
manded  of  her  the  same  diligence  and  perseverance 


1 82  CALVARY  ALLEY 

he  exacted  of  himself.  He  not  only  taught  her  to 
manipulate  the  type-writer,  but  put  her  through  an 
elementary  course  of  stenography  as  well. 

"  Certainly  you  can  learn  it,"  he  said  sternly  at 
her  first  sign  of  discouragement.  "  I  got  that  far 
in  my  second  lesson.  Have  n't  you  got  any 
brains?  " 

Nance  by  this  time  was  not  at  all  sure  she  had, 
but  she  was  not  going  to  let  Ike  know.it.  Stung 
by  his  smug  superiority,  she  often  sat  up  far  into 
the  night,  wrestling  with  the  arbitrary  signs  until 
Uncle  Jed,  seeing  her  light  under  the  door,  would 
pound  on  the  wall  for  her  to  go  to  bed. 

She  saw  little  of  Dan  Lewis  these  days.  The 
weather  no  longer  permitted  them  to  meet  in  Post- 
Office  Square,  and  conditions  even  less  inviting  kept 
them  from  trying  to  see  each  other  in  Snawdor's 
kitchen.  Sometimes  she  would  wait  at  the  corner 
for  him  to  come  home,  but  this  had  its  disadvan 
tages,  for  there  was  always  a  crowd  of  loafers  hang 
ing  about  Slap  Jack's,  and  now  that  Nance  was  too 
old  to  stick  out  her  tongue  and  call  names,  she  found 
her  power  of  repartee  seriously  interfered  with. 

"  I  ain't  coming  up  here  to  meet  you  any  more," 
she  declared  to  Dan  on  one  of  these  occasions.  "  I 
don't  see  why  we  can't  go  to  Gorman's  Chili  Parlor 
of  an  evening  and  set  down  and  talk  to  each  other, 
right." 

"  Gorman's  ain't  a  nice  place,"  insisted  Dan.     "  I 


MARKING  TIME  183 

wish  you  'd  come  on  up  to  some  of  the  church  meet 
ings  with  me.  I  could  take  you  lots  of  times  if 
you  'd  go." 

But  Nance  refused  persistently  to  be  inveigled 
into  the  religious  fold.  The  very  names  of  Ep- 
worth  League,  and  prayer  meeting  made  her  draw 
a  long  face. 

"  You  don't  care  whether  we  see  each  other  or 
not !  "  she  accused  Dan,  hotly. 

"I  do," 'he  said  earnestly,  "but  it  seems  like  I 
never  have  time  for  anything.  The  work  at  the 
factory  gets  heavier  all  the  time.  But  I  'm  getting 
on,  Nance;  they  give  me  another  raise  last  month." 

"  Everybody  's  getting  on,"  cried  Nance  bitterly, 
"but  me!  You  and  Ike  and  Birdie!  I  work  just 
as  hard  as  you  all  do,  and  I  have  n't  got  a  blooming 
thing  to  show  for  it.  What  I  make  sewing  pants 
don't  pay  for  what  I  eat.  Sometimes  I  think  I  '11 
have  to  go  back  to  the  finishing  room." 

"Not  if  I  can  help  it!"  said  Dan,  emphatically. 
"  There  must  be  decent  jobs  somewhere  for  girls. 
Suppose  I  take  you  out  to  Mrs.  Purdy's  on  Sunday, 
and  see  if  she  knows  of  anything.  She  's  all  the 
time  asking  me  about  you." 

The  proposition  met  with  little  enthusiasm  on 
Nance's  part.  It  was  Mrs.  Purdy  who  had  got 
Dan  into  the  church  and  persuaded  him  not  to  go 
to  the  theater  or  learn  how  to  dance.  It  was  Mrs. 
Purdy  who  took  him  home  with  her  to  dinner  every 


1 84  CALVARY  ALLEY 

Sunday  after  church  and  absorbed  the  time  that 
used  to  be  hers.  But  the  need  for  a  job  was  too 
pressing  for  Nance  to  harbor  prejudices.  Instead 
of  sewing  for  the  Lavinskis  that  night,  she  sewed 
for  herself,  trying  to  achieve  a  costume  from  the 
old  finery  bequeathed  her  by  Birdie  Smelts, 

You  would  scarcely  have  recognized  Dan  that 
next  Sunday  in  his  best  suit,  with  his  hair  plastered 
down,  and  a  very  red  tie  encircling  a  very  high  col 
lar.  To  be  sure  Dan's  best  was  over  a  year  old, 
and  the  brown-striped  shirt-front  was  not  what  it 
seemed,  but  his  skin  was  clean  and  clear,  and  there 
was  a  look  in  his  earnest  eyes  that  bespoke  an  un 
troubled  conscience. 

Mrs.  Purdy  received  them  in  her  cozy  fire-lit  sit 
ting-room  and  made  Nance  sit  beside  her  on  the 
sofa,  while  she  held  her  hand  and  looked  with  mild 
surprise  at  her  flaring  hat  and  cheap  lace  collar. 

"  Dan  did  n't  tell  me,"  she  said,  "  how  big  you 
had  grown  or  —  or  how  pretty." 

Nance  blushed  and  smiled  and  glanced  consciously 
at  Dan.  She  had  felt  dubious  about  her  costume, 
but  now  that  she  was  reassured,  she  began  to  imi 
tate  Birdie's  tone  and  manner  as  she  explained  to 
Mrs.  Purdy  the  object  of  her  visit. 

"Deary  me!"  said  Mrs.  Purdy,  "Dan's  quite 
right.  We  can't  allow  a  nice  little  girl  like  you  to 
work  in  a  glass  factory!  We  must  find  some  nice 
genteel  place  for  you.  Let  me  see." 


MARKING  TIME  185 

In  order  to  see  Mrs.  Purely  shut  her  eyes,  and  the 
next  moment  she  opened  them  and  announced  that 
she  had  the  very  thing. 

"It's  Cousin  Lucretia  Bobinet!"  she  beamed. 
"  She  is  looking  for  a  companion." 

"  What 's  that?  "  asked  Nance. 

"  Some  one  to  wait  on  her  and  read  to  her  and 
amuse  her.  She 's  quite  advanced  in  years  and 
deaf  and,  I  'm  afraid,  just  a  little  peculiar." 

"  I  'm  awful  good  at  taking  care  of  sick  people/' 
said  Nance  complacently. 

"  Cousin  Lucretia  is  n't  ill.  She 's  the  most 
wonderfully  preserved  woman  for  her  years.  But 
her  maid,  that  she  's  had  for  so  long,  is  getting  old 
too.  Why,  Susan  must  be  seventy.  She  can't  see 
to  read  any  more,  and  she  makes  mistakes  over 
cards.  By  the  way,  I  wonder  if  you  know  how  to 
play  card  games." 

"  Sure,"  said  Nance.     "  Poker?  seven-up?  " 

"Isn't  there  another  game  called  penuchle?" 
Mrs.  Purdy  ventured,  evidently  treading  unfamiliar 
ground. 

"Yes!"  cried  Nance.  "That's  Uncle  Jed's 
game.  We  used  to  play  it  heaps  before  Rosy  cut  up 
the  queens  for  paper  dolls." 

"  Now  is  n't  it  too  wonderful  that  you  should 
happen  to  know  that  particular  game?"  said  Mrs. 
Purdy,  with  the  gentle  amazement  of  one  who  sees 
the  finger  of  Providence  in  everything.  "  Not  that 


i86  CALVARY  ALLEY 

I  approve  of  playing  cards,  but  Cousin  Lucretia  was 
always  a  bit  worldly  minded,  and  playing  penuchle 
seems  to  be  the  chief  diversion  of  her  declining 
years.  How  old  are  you,  my  child?  " 

"I'm  seventeen.  And  I  ain't  a  bit  afraid  of 
work,  am  I,  Dan?  " 

"  I  am  sure  you  are  not,"  said  Mrs.  Purdy. 
"  Dan  often  tells  me  what  a  fine  girl  you  are.  Only 
we  wish  you  would  come  to  some  of  our  services. 
Dan  is  getting  to  be  one  of  our  star  members.  So 
conscientious  and  regular !  We  call  him  our  model 
young  man." 

"  I  expect  it 's  time  we  was  going,"  said  Dan, 
greatly  embarrassed.  But  owing  to  the  fact  that 
he  wanted  very  much  to  be  a  gentleman,  and  did  n't 
quite  know  how,  he  stayed  on  and  on,  until  Nance 
informed  him  it  was  eleven  o'clock. 

At  the  door  Mrs.  Purdy  gave  final  instructions 
about  the  new  position,  adding  in  an  undertone : 

"  It  might  be  just  as  well,  dearie,  for  you  to  wear 
a  plainer  dress  when  you  apply  for  the  place,  and  I 
believe  —  in  fact  I  am  quite  sure  —  Cousin  Lucre 
tia  would  rather  you  left  off  the  ear-rings." 

"  Ain't  ear-rings  stylish  ?  "  asked  Nance,  feeling 
that  she  had  been  misinformed. 

"  Not  on  a  little  companion,"  said  Mrs.  Purdy 
gently. 

Nance's  elation  over  the  prospect  of  a  job  was 
slightly  dashed  by  the  idea  of  returning  to  the  worn- 


MARKING  TIME  187 

out  childish  garb  in  which  she  had  left  the  home. 

"  Say,  Dan,"  she  said,  as  they  made  their  way 
out  of  Butternut  Lane,  "  do  you  think  I  've  changed 
so  much  —  like  Mrs.  Purdy  said?" 

"  You  always  look  just  the  same  to  me,"  Dan 
said,  as  he  helped  her  on  with  her  coat  and  adjusted 
the  collar  with  gentle,  painstaking  deference. 

She  sighed.  The  remark  to  a  person  who  ar 
dently  desired  to  look  different  was  crushing. 

"  I  think  Mrs.  Purdy  's  an  awful  old  fogey !  "  she 
said  petulantly  by  way  of  venting  her  pique. 

Dan  looked  at  her  in  surprise,  and  the  scowl  that 
rarely  came  now  darkened  his  face. 

"  Mrs.  Purdy  is  the  best  Christian  that  ever 
lived,"  he  said  shortly. 

"  Well,  she  ain't  going  to  be  a  Christian  offen 
me !  "  said  Nance. 

The  next  morning,  in  a  clean,  faded  print,  and  a 
thin  jacket,  much  too  small  for  her,  Nance  went 
forth  to  find  Miss  Lucretia  Bobinet  in  Cemetery 
Street.  It  was  a  staid,  elderly  street,  full  of  staid, 
elderly  houses,  and  at  its  far  end  were  visible  the 
tall  white  shafts  which  gave  it  its  name.  At  the 
number  corresponding  to  that  on  Nance's  card,  she 
rang  the  bell.  The  door  was  opened  by  a  squinting 
person  who  held  one  hand  behind  her  ear  and  with 
the  other  grasped  the  door  knob  as  if  she  feared  it 
might  be  stolen. 

"  Who  do  you  want  to  see  ?  "  she  wheezed. 


1 88  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  Miss  Bobinet." 

"Who?" 

"  Miss  Bobinet!  "  said  Nance,  lifting  her  voice. 

"  Stop  that  hollering  at  me !  "  said  the  old  woman. 
"  Who  sent  you  here  ?  " 

"  Airs.  Purdy." 

"What  for?" 

Nance  explained  her  mission  at  the  top  of  her 
voice  and  was  grudgingly  admitted  into  the  hall. 

"  You  ain't  going  to  suit  her.  I  can  tell  you 
that,"  said  the  squint-eyed  one  mournfully,  "  but  I 
guess  you  might  as  well  go  in  and  wait  until  she 
wakes  up.  Mind  you  don't  bump  into  things." 

Nance  felt  her  way  into  the  room  indicated  and 
cautiously  let  herself  down  into  the  nearest  chair. 
Sitting  facing  her  was  an  imposing  old  lady,  with 
eyes  closed  and  mouth  open,  making  the  most  alarm 
ing  noises  in  her  throat.  She  began  with  a  guttural 
inhalation  that  increased  in  ferocity  until  it  broke 
in  a  violent  snort,  then  trailed  away  in  a  prolonged 
and  somewhat  plaintive  whistle.  Nance  watched 
her  with  amazement.  It  seemed  that  each  recurrent 
snort  must  surely  send  the  old  wrinkled  head,  with 
its  elaborately  crimped  gray  wig,  rolling  away  under 
the  stiff  horse-hair  sofa. 

The  room  was  almost  dark,  but  the  light  that 
managed  to  creep  in  showed  a  gloomy  black  mantel 
piece,  with  vases  of  immortelles,  and  somber  walnut 
chairs  with  crocheted  tidies  that  made  little  white 


MARKING  TIME  189 

patches  here  and  there  in  the  dusk.  Everything 
smelled  of  camphor,  and  from  one  of  the  corners 
came  the  slow,  solemn  tick  of  a  clock. 

After  Nance  had  recovered  from  her  suspense 
about  Miss  Bobinet's  head,  and  had  taken  sufficient 
note  of  the  vocal  gymnastics  to  be  able  to  reproduce 
them  later  for  the  amusement  of  the  Snawdors,  she 
began  to  experience  great  difficulty  in  keeping  still. 
First  one  foot  went  to  sleep,  then  the  other.  The 
minutes  stretched  to  an  hour.  She  had  hurried  off 
that  morning  without  her  breakfast,  leaving  every 
thing  at  sixes  and  sevens,  and  she  wanted  to  get  back 
and  clean  up  before  Mrs.  Snawdor  got  up.  She 
stirred  restlessly,  and  her  chair  creaked. 

The  old  lady  opened  one  eye  and  regarded  her 
suspiciously. 

"  I  am  Nance  Molloy,"  ventured  the  applicant, 
hopefully.  "  Mrs.  Purdy  sent  me." 

Miss  Bobinet  gazed  at  her  in  stony  silence,  then 
slowly  closed  her  eye,  and  took  up  her  snore  exactly 
where  she  had  left  it  off.  This  took  place  three 
times  before  she  succeeded  in  getting  her  other  eye 
open  and  becoming  aware  of  Nance's  presence. 

"  Well,  well,"  she  asked  testily,  in  a  dry  cracked 
voice,  "  what  are  you  sitting  there  staring  at  me 
for?" 

Nance  repeated  her  formula  several  times  before 
she  remembered  that  Miss  Bobinet  was  deaf;  then 
she  got  up  and  shouted  it  close  to  the  old  lady's  ear. 


190  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  Lida  Purdy  's  a  fool,"  said  Miss  Bobinet, 
crossly.  "  What  do  I  want  with  a  chit  of  a  girl 
like  you?  " 

"  She  thought  I  could  wait  on  you,"  screamed 
Nance,  "  and  read  to  you  and  play  penuchle." 

The  only  word  that  got  past  the  grizzled  fringe 
that  bordered  Miss  Bobinet's  shriveled  ear  was  the 
last  one. 

"Penuchle?"  she  repeated.  "Can  you  play 
penuchle?" 

Nance  nodded. 

"  Get  the  table,"  ordered  the  old  lady,  peremp 
torily. 

Nance  tried  to  explain  that  she  had  not  come  to 
stay,  that  she  would  go  home,  and  get  her  things 
and  return  in  the  afternoon,  but  Miss  Bobinet  would 
brook  no  delay.  Without  inviting  Nance  to  remove 
her  hat  and  jacket,  she  ordered  her  to  lift  the  shade, 
sit  down,  and  deal  the  cards. 

They  were  still  playing  when  the  squinting  per 
son  hobbled  in  with  a  luncheon  tray,  and  Miss  Bob 
inet  promptly  transferred  her  attention  from  royal 
marriages  to  oyster  stew. 

"  Have  her  come  back  at  three,"  she  directed 
Susan;  then  seeing  Nance's  eyes  rest  on  the  well 
filled  tray,  she  added  impatiently,  "  Did  n't  I  tell 
you  to  stop  staring?  Any  one  would  think  you 
were  watching  the  animals  feed  in  the  zoo." 

Nance  fled  abashed.     The  sight  of  the  steaming 


MARKING  TIME  191 

soup,  the  tempting  bird,  and  dainty  salad  had  made 
her  forget  her  manners. 

"  I  reckon  I  'm  engaged,"  she  said  to  Mrs.  Snaw- 
dor,  when  she  reached  home  and  had  cut  herself  a 
slice  of  dry  bread  to  eat  with  the  warmed-over 
coffee.  "  She  never  said  what  the  pay  was  to  be, 
but  she  said  to  come  back." 

"  What  does  she  look  like  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Snaw- 
dor,  curiously. 

"  A  horse,"  said  Nance.  "  And  she  's  deaf  as 
anything.  If  I  stay  with  her,  she  '11  have  to  get 
her  an  ear-trumpet  or  a  new  wig  before  the  month  's 
out.  I  swallow  a  curl  every  time  I  speak  to  her." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Snawdor,  "  companions  ain't 
in  my  line,  but  I  got  sense  enough  to  know  that 
when  a  woman  's  so  mean  she  's  got  to  pay  some 
body  to  keep  her  company,  the  job  ain't  no  cinch." 


CHAPTER  XVI 
MISS  BOBINET'S 

NANCE'S  new  duties,  compared  with  those  at 
the  bottle  factory,  and  the  sweat-shop  seemed, 
at  first,  mere  child's  play.  She  arrived  at  eight 
o'clock,  helped  Susan  in  the  basement  kitchen,  until 
Miss  Bobinet  awoke,  then  went  aloft  to  officiate  at 
the  elaborate  process  of  that  lady's  toilet.  For 
twenty  years  Susan  had  been  chief  priestess  at  this 
ceremony,  but  her  increasing  deafness  infuriated  her 
mistress  to  such  an  extent  that  Nance  was  initiated 
into  the  mysteries.  The  temperature  of  the  bath, 
the  choice  of  underclothing,  the  method  of  proced 
ure  were  matters  of  the  utmost  significance,  and  the 
slightest  mistake  on  the  part  of  the  assistant  brought 
about  a  scene.  Miss  Bobinet  would  shriek  at  Susan, 
and  Susan  would  shriek  back;  then  both  would  in 
dulge  in  scathing  criticism  of  the  other  in  an  under 
tone  to  Nance. 

The  final  rite  was  the  most  critical  of  all.  Miss 
Bobinet  would  sit  before  her  dresser  with  a  towel 
about  her  neck,  and  take  a  long  breath,  holding  it 
in  her  puffed-out  cheeks,  while  rice  powder  was 

192 


MISS  BOBINET'S  193 

dusted  over  the  corrugated  surface  of  her  face. 
She  held  the  theory  that  this  opened  the  pores  of 
the  skin  and  allowed  them  to  absorb  the  powder. 
The  sight  of  the  old  lady  purled  up  like  a  balloon 
was  always  too  much  for  Nance,  and  when  she 
laughed,  Miss  Bobinet  was  obliged  to  let  her  breath 
go  in  a  sharp  reprimand,  and  the  performance  had 
to  start  all  over  again. 

"  You  laugh  too  much  anyhow,"  she  complained 
irritably. 

When  the  toilet  and  breakfast  were  over,  there 
followed  two  whole  hours  of  pinochle.  Nance  came 
to  regard  the  queen  of  spades  and  the  jack  of 
diamonds  with  personal  animosity.  Whatever  pos 
sible  interest  she  might  have  taken  was  destroyed 
by  the  fact  that  Miss  Bobinet  insisted  upon  winning 
two  out  of  every  three  games.  It  soon  became  evi 
dent  that  while  she  would  not  cheat  on  her  own 
behalf,  she  expected  her  opponent  to  cheat  for  her. 
So  Nance  dutifully  slipped  her  trump  cards  back 
in  the  deck  and  forgot  to  declare  while  she  idly 
watched  the  flash  of  diamonds  on  the  wrinkled  yel 
low  hands,  and  longed  for  the  clock  to  strike  the 
next  hour. 

At  lunch  she  sat  in  the  kitchen  opposite  Susan  and 
listened  to  a  recital  of  that  melancholy  person's 
woes.  Susan  and  her  mistress,  being  mutually  de 
pendent,  had  endured  each  other's  exclusive  society 
for  close  upon  twenty  years.  The  result  was  that 


194  CALVARY  ALLEY 

each  found  the  other  the  most  stimulating  of  all 
subjects  of  conversation.  When  Nance  was  not 
listening  to  tirades  against  Susan  up-stairs,  she  was 
listening  to  bitter  complaints  against  Miss  Bobinet 
down-stairs. 

In  the  afternoon  she  was  expected  to  read  at  the 
top  of  her  voice  from  "  The  Church  Guide,"  until 
Miss  Bobinet  got  sleepy;  then  it  was  her  duty  to 
sit  motionless  in  the  stuffy,  camphor-laden  room, 
listening  to  an  endless  succession  of  vocal  gym 
nastics  until  what  time  the  old  lady  saw  fit  to  wake 
up. 

If  Nance  had  been  a  provident  young  person, 
she  might  have  improved  those  idle  hours  during 
that  interminable  winter  by  continuing  her  study  of 
stenography.  But,  instead,  she  crouched  on  the 
floor  by  the  window,  holding  her  active  young  body 
motionless,  while  her  thoughts  like  distracted  im 
prisoned  things  flew  round  their  solid  walls  of  facts, 
frantically  seeking  some  loophole  of  escape.  Day 
after  day  she  crouched  there,  peeping  out  under  the 
lowered  shade  with  hungry  eyes.  The  dreary  street 
below  offered  no  diversion ;  sometimes  a  funeral  pro 
cession  dragged  its  way  past,  but  for  the  most  part 
there  was  nothing  to  see  save  an  occasional  delivery 
wagon  or  a  staid  pedestrian. 

She  was  at  that  critical  time  of  transition  between 
the  romance  of  childhood,  when  she  had  become 
vaguely  aware  of  the  desire  of  the  spirit,  and  the 


MISS  BOBINET'S  195 

romance  of  youth,  when  she  was  to  know  to  the 
full  the  desires  of  the  flesh.  It  was  a  period  of 
sudden,  intense  moods,  followed  by  spells  of  lan 
guor.  Something  new  and  strange  and  incommuni 
cable  was  fermenting  within  her,  and  nothing  was 
being  done  to  direct  those  mysterious  forces.  She 
was  affectionate,  with  no  outlet  for  her  affection; 
romantic,  with  nothing  for  romance  to  feed  upon. 

The  one  resource  lay  in  the  bookcase  that  rose 
above  the  old-fashioned  secretary  in  Miss  Bobinet's 
front  hall.  She  had  discovered  it  on  the  day  of 
her  arrival  and,  choosing  a  volume  at  random,  had 
become  so  engrossed  in  the  doings  of  one  of  Ouida's 
heroes,  that  she  had  failed  to  hear  Miss  Bobinet's 
call.  From  that  time  on  she  was  forbidden  to  take 
any  books  away  from  the  bookcase,  an  order  which 
she  got  around  by  standing  beside  it  and  eagerly  de 
vouring  bits  at  a  time. 

The  monotony  of  the  days  she  might  have  en 
dured  if  there  had  been  any  relief  at  the  close  of 
them.  But  when  she  returned  home  there  was  al 
ways  endless  work  to  be  done.  Her  four  years' 
absence  at  Forest  Home  had  separated  her  from  the 
young  people  she  had  known,  and  she  had  had  no 
time  to  make  new  friends.  The  young  bar-keeper 
at  Slap  Jack's,  who  always  watched  for  her  to  pass 
in  the  morning,  the  good-looking  delivery  boy  who 
sometimes  brought  parcels  to  Cemetery  Street,  the 
various  youths  with  whom  she  carried  on  casual 


196  CALVARY  ALLEY 

flirtations  on  her  way  to  and  from  work,  were  her 
nearest  approach  to  friends. 

Dan,  to  be  sure,  still  came  for  her  every  Saturday 
afternoon,  but  Cemetery  Street  was  across  the  city 
from  Clarke's,  and  their  time  together  was  short. 
Nance  lived  for  these  brief  interviews,  and  then 
came  away  from  them  more  restless  and  dissatisfied 
than  before.  Dan  did  n't  look  or  talk  or  act  like 
the  heroes  in  the  novels  she  was  reading.  He  never 
"  rained  fervent  kisses  on  her  pale  brow,"  or  told 
her  that  she  was  "  the  day-star  of  his  secret  dreams." 
Instead  he  talked  of  eight-hour  laws,  and  minimum 
wage,  and  his  numerous  church  activities.  He  was 
sleeping  at  Mrs.  Purdy's  now,  looking  after  the  place 
while  she  was  away  with  her  brother,  and  Nance 
was  jealous  of  his  new  interests  and  new  oppor 
tunities. 

As  the  long  weeks  stretched  into  long  months,  her 
restlessness  grew  into  rebellion.  So  this  was  the 
kind  of  job,  she  told  herself  bitterly,  that  nice  girls 
were  supposed  to  hold.  This  was  what  Miss  Stan 
ley  and  Mrs.  Purdy  and  Mr.  Demry  approved.  But 
they  were  old.  They  had  forgotten.  Dan  Lewis 
was  n't  old.  Why  could  n't  he  understand  ?  What 
right  had  he  to  insist  upon  her  sticking  it  out  when 
he  knew  how  lonesome  and  unhappy  she  was  ?  Dan 
did  n't  care,  that  was  the  trouble ;  he  thought  more 
of  his  old  church  and  the  factory  than  he  thought  of 
her. 


MISS  BOBINET'S  197 

She  remembered,  with  sudden  understanding, 
what  red-haired  Gert  had  said  in  the  finishing  room ; 
some  people  were  n't  content  with  a  good  job ;  they 
had  to  have  a  good  time  with  it.  She  told  herself 
that  she  was  one  of  these;  she  wanted  to  be  good 
and  do  what  was  expected  of  her;  she  wanted  fer 
vently  to  please  Dan  Lewis,  but  she  could  n't  go  on 
like  this,  she  could  n't,  she  could  n't ! 

And  yet  she  did.  With  a  certain  dogged  com- 
monsense,  she  stayed  at  her  post,  suppressing  her 
self  in  a  thousand  ways,  stifling  her  laughter,  smoth 
ering  the  song  on  her  lips,  trying  to  make  her 
prancing  feet  keep  pace  with  the  feeble  steps  of  age. 
She  lived  through  each  day  on  the  meager  hope  that 
something  would  happen  at  the  end  of  it,  that  elusive 
"  something  "  that  always  waits  around  the  corner 
for  youth,  with  adventure  in  one  hand  and  happiness 
in  the  other  and  limitless  promise  in  its  shining  eyes. 

Almost  a  year  crawled  by  before  her  hope  was 
realized.  Then  one  Tuesday  morning  as  she  was 
coming  to  work,  she  spied  a  bill  poster  announcing 
the  appearance  of  the  "  Rag-Time  Follies."  Rows 
upon  rows  of  saucy  girls  in  crimson  tights  and 
gauzy  wings  smiled  down  upon  her,  smiled  and 
seemed  to  beckon. 

Since  Birdie's  departure  from  the  alley,  eighteen 
months  ago,  Nance  had  heard  no  word  of  her. 
Long  ago  she  had  given  up  the  hope  of  escape  in 
that  direction.  But  the  knowledge  that  she  was  in 


198  CALVARY  ALLEY 

the  city  and  the  possibility  of  seeing  her,  wakened 
all  manner  of  vague  hopes  and  exciting  possibilities. 

Whatever  happened  Nance  must  see  the  play! 
She  must  be  on  hand  to-morrow  night  when  the  cur 
tain  went  up;  perhaps  she  could  wait  outside  for 
Birdie,  and  speak  to  her  after  the  performance! 

If  only  Dan  would  take  her,  and  they  could  sit 
together  and  share  the  fun!  But  the  very  thought 
of  Dan  in  connection  with  those  frisky  girls  made 
her  smile.  No;  if  she  went,  she  would  have  to  go 
alone. 

The  all-important  question  now  was  how  to  get 
the  ticket.  Miss  Bobinet  could  never  be  induced  to 
advance  a  penny  on  the  week's  wages,  and  Susan, 
while  ready  to  accept  financial  favors,  was  adamant 
when  it  came  to  extending  them. 

By  six  o'clock  Nance  had  exhausted  every  re 
source  but  one.  On  her  way  home  she  visited  a 
small  shop  which  was  all  too  familiar  to  the  residents 
of  Calvary  Alley.  When  she  emerged,  the  beloved 
locket,  which  usually  dangled  on  the  velvet  ribbon 
around  her  neck,  was  no  longer  there,  but  tied  in 
the  corner  of  her  handkerchief  was  a  much  desired 
silver  coin. 

In  high  spirits  she  rushed  home  only  to  be  con 
fronted  on  the  threshold  by  a  serious  domestic  com 
plication.  Mrs.  Snawdor,  with  her  hat  on,  was 
standing  by  the  bed  in  the  dark  inside  room  that 
used  to  be  Nance's,  futilely  applying  a  mustard 


MISS  BOBINET'S  199 

plaster  to  whatever  portion  of  Fidy's  anatomy  hap 
pened  to  be  exposed. 

"  How  long  has  she  been  like  this  ?  "  cried  Nance, 
flinging  her  jacket  off  and  putting  the  tea  kettle  on 
the  stove. 

"  Lord  knows,"  said  Mrs.  Snawdor  in  a  tone  that 
implied  a  conspiracy  on  the  part  of  poor  Fidy  and 
her  Maker  to  interfere  with  her  plans.  "  When  I 
come  in  ten  minutes  ago,  she  was  tryin'  to  eat  the 
sheet." 

"  Did  n't  you  give  her  the  medicine  the  doctor  left 
last  time?" 

"  There  ain't  a  drop  left.  Mr.  Snawdor  took 
every  bit  of  it." 

"Where's  the  bottle?     We  must  get  it  filled." 

"  What 's  the  use  ?  It  ain't  no  good.  I  was 
handlin'  Fidy's  fits  before  that  there  young  dis 
pensary  doctor  was  out  of  knee  pants.  Besides  I 
ain't  got  fifty  cents  in  the  house." 

Nance  stood  for  a  moment  irresolute.  She 
looked  at  the  writhing  figure  on  the  bed;  then  she 
snatched  up  her  hat  and  jacket. 

"Quick!  Where's  the  bottle?"  she  cried.  "I 
got  the  money." 

But  after  the  medicine  had  been  bought,  and 
Fidy  had  grown  quiet  under  its  influence,  Nance 
went  across  the  hall  to  her  own  cold,  barren  room 
and  flung  herself  across  her  narrow  bed.  The  last 
chance  of  seeing  the  play  had  vanished.  The  only 


200  CALVARY  ALLEY 

light  of  hope  that  had  shone  on  her  horizon  for 
months  had  gone  out. 

When  she  got  up,  cold  and  miserable,  and  lighted 
the  gas,  she  saw  on  the  floor,  where  it  had  evidently 
been  slipped  under  the  door,  a  mysterious  pink 
envelope.  Tearing  it  open,  she  found,  written  in 
a  large,  loose  scrawl: 

Dear  Nance.  We  have  just  struck  town.  Reckon  you 
thought  I  was  a  quitter,  but  I  ain't.  You  be  at  the 
Gaiety  to-morrow  morning  at  nine  A.  M.  Maybe  I  can 
land  you  something.  Don't  say  a  word  to  anybody  about 
it,  and  make  yourself  look  as  pretty  as  you  can,  and  don't 
be  late.  Don't  tell  my  folks  I  'm  here.  I  got  a  room 
down-town. 

Bye  bye, 

B.  S. 

Nance's  breath  caught  in  her  throat.  The  bubble 
was  so  radiant,  so  fragile,  so  unbelievable,  that  she 
was  afraid  to  stir  for  fear  of  breaking  it.  She 
waited  until  she  heard  Mrs.  Snawdor's  heavy  feet 
descending  the  stairs,  and  then  she  crept  across  the 
hall  and  sat  on  the  side  of  Fidy's  bed,  waiting  to 
give  her  the  next  dose  of  medicine.  Her  eyes  were 
fixed  on  the  bare  lathes  over  the  headboard  where 
she  had  once  knocked  the  plaster  off  tacking  up  a 
tomato-can  label.  But  she  did  not  see  the  hole  or 
the  wall.  Calvary  Alley  and  Cemetery  Street  had 
ceased  to  exist  for  her.  She  was  already  trans 
ported  to  a  region  of  warmth  and  gaiety  and  song. 


MISS  BOBINET'S  201 

All  that  was  ugly  and  old  and  sordid  lay  behind  her, 
and  she  told  herself,  with  a  little  sob  of  joy,  that  at 
last  the  beautiful  something  for  which  she  had 
waited  so  long  was  about  to  happen. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

BEHIND   THE  TWINKLING   LIGHTS 

THE  Gaiety,  with  its  flamboyant  entrance, 
round  which  the  lights  flared  enticingly 
at  night,  had  always  seemed  to  Nance  an  earthly 
paradise  into  which  the  financially  blessed  alone 
were  privileged  to  enter.  At  the  "  Star "  there 
were  acrobats  and  funny  Jews  with  big  noses 
and  Irishmen  who  were  always  falling  down;  but 
the  Gaiety  was  different.  Twice  Nance  had  passed 
that  fiery  portal,  and  she  knew  that  once  inside,  you 
drifted  into  states  of  beatitude,  which  eternity  itself 
was  too  short  to  enjoy.  The  world  ceased  to  exist 
for  you,  until  a  curtain,  as  relentless  as  fate,  de 
scended,  and  you  reached  blindly  for  your  hat  and 
stumbled  down  from  the  gallery  to  the  balcony,  and 
from  the  balcony  to  the  lobby,  and  thence  out  into 
the  garish  world,  dazed,  bewildered,  unreconciled 
to  reality,  and  not  knowing  which  way  to  turn  to 
go  home. 

But  to-day  as  she  passed  the  main  entrance  and 
made  her  way  through  a  side-passage  to  the  stage- 
door,  she  tingled  with  a  keener  thrill  than  she  had 
ever  felt  before. 

202 


BEHIND  THE  TWINKLING  LIGHTS      203 

"Is  Miss  Smelts  here?"  she  asked  a  man  who 
going  in  as  she  did. 

"  Smelts ?  "  he  repeated.     "  What  does  she  do?  " 

"  She  dances." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  Nobody  here  by  that  name,"  he  said,  and  hur 
ried  on. 

Nance  stood  aside  and  waited,  with  a  terrible 
sinking  of  the  heart.  She  waited  a  half  hour,  then 
an  hour,  while  people  came  and  went.  Just  as  she 
was  about  to  give  up  in  despair,  she  saw  a  tall, 
handsome  girl  hurry  up  the  steps  and  come  toward 
her.  She  had  to  look  twice  before  she  could  make 
sure  that  the  imposing  figure  was  Birdie. 

"  Hello,  kid,"  was  Birdie's  casual  greeting.  "  I 
forgot  all  about  you.  Just  as  cute  looking  as  ever, 
eh !  Where  did  you  get  that  hat  ?  " 

"  Ten-cent  store,"  said  Nance,  triumphantly. 

"Can  you  beat  that?"  said  Birdie.  "You  al 
ways  did  have  a  style  about  you.  But  your  hair  's 
fixed  wrong.  Come  on  down  to  the  dressing-room 
while  I  change.  I  '11  do  it  over  before  you  see 
Reeser." 

Nance  followed  her  across  a  barn  of  a  place  where 
men  in  shirt-sleeves  were  dragging  scenes  this  way 
and  that. 

"Mind  the  steps;  they  are  awful!"  warned 
Birdie,  as  they  descended  into  a  gas-lit  region  par 
titioned  off  into  long,  low  dressing-rooms. 


204  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  Here  's  where  I  hang  out.  Sit  down  and  let 
me  dude  you  up  a  bit.  You  always  did  wear  your 
hair  too  plain.  I  '11  fix  it  so  's  it  will  make  little 
Peroxide  Pierson  green  with  envy." 

Nance  sat  before  the  mirror  and  watched  Birdie's 
white  fingers  roll  and  twist  her  shining  hair  into 
the  elaborate  style  approved  at  the  moment. 

"  Gee !  it  looks  like  a  horse-collar ! "  she  said, 
laughing  at  her  reflection.  "  What  you  going  to  do 
to  me  next?  " 

"  Well,  I  have  n't  got  much  to  do  on,"  said  Birdie, 
"  but  you  just  wait  till  I  get  you  over  to  my  room ! 
I  could  fit  you  out  perfect  if  you  were  just  a  couple 
of  sizes  bigger." 

She  was  putting  on  a  pair  of  bloomers  herself 
as  she  spoke,  and  slipping  her  feet  into  her  dancing 
slippers,  and  Nance  watched  every  movement  with 
admiring  eyes. 

"  Come  on  now,"  Birdie  said  hurriedly.  "  We 
got  to  catch  Reeser  before  rehearsal.  He 's  the 
main  guy  in  this  company.  What  Reeser  says 
goes." 

At  the  head  of  the  steps  they  encountered  a  gaunt, 
raw-boned  man,  with  an  angular,  expressive  face, 
and  an  apple  in  his  long  neck  that  would  have  em 
barrassed  Adam  himself. 

"  Well !  Well !  "  he  shouted  at  them,  impatiently, 
"  come  on  or  else  go  back !  Don't  stand  there  in 
the  way." 


BEHIND  THE  TWINKLING  LIGHTS     205 

"  Mr.  Reeser,  please,  just  a  minute,"  called 
Birdie,  "  It 's  a  new  girl  wants  to  get  in  the  chorus." 

The  stage-manager  paused  and  looked  her  over 
with  a  critical  eye. 

"  Can  she  sing?  " 

"  No,"  said  Nance,  "  but  I  can  dance.  Want  to 
see  me  ? " 

"  Well,  I  think  I  can  live  a  few  minutes  without 
it,"  said  Reeser  dryly.  "  Ever  been  on  before?  " 

"  No ;  but  everybody  's  got  to  start  some  time." 
Then  she  added  with  a  smile,  "  I  wish  you  'd  give 
me  a  chance." 

"  She  's  a  awful  cute  little  dancer,"  Birdie  recom 
mended.  "  She  knows  all  the  steps  in  the  Red- 
Bird  chorus.  I  taught  her  when  I  was  here  before. 
If  you  'd  say  a  word  to  Mr.  Pulatki  he  might  try 
her  out  at  rehearsal  this  morning." 

Nance  held  her  breath  while  Reeser's  quizzical 
eyes  continued  to  study  her. 

"  All  right !  "  he  said  suddenly.  "  She  's  pretty 
young,  but  we  '11  see  what  she  can  do.  Now  clear 
the  way.  Lower  that  drop  a  little,  boys.  Hurry 
up  with  the  second  set." 

The  girls  scurried  away  to  the  wings  where  they 
found  a  narrow  space  in  which  Nance  was  put 
through  the  half-forgotten  steps. 

"  It 's  all  in  the  team  work,"  Birdie  explained. 
"  You  do  exactly  what  I  do,  and  don't  let  old 
Spagetti  rattle  you.  He  goes  crazy  at  every  re- 


206  CALVARY  ALLEY 

hearsal.  Keep  time  and  grin.  That 's  all  there  is 
to  it." 

"I  can  do  it!"  cried  Nance  radiantly.  "It's 
easy  as  breathing!  " 

But  it  proved  more  difficult  than  she  thought, 
when  in  a  pair  of  property  bloomers  she  found 
herself  one  of  a  party  of  girls  advancing,  retreating, 
and  wheeling  at  the  arbitrary  command  of  an  ex 
citable  little  man  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  who  hammered 
out  the  time  on  a  rattling  piano. 

Pulatki  was  a  nervous  Italian  with  long  black 
hair  and  a  drooping  black  mustache,  both  of  which 
suffered  harsh  treatment  in  moments  of  dramatic 
frenzy.  His  business  in  life  was  to  make  forty 
lively,  mischievous  girls  move  and  sing  as  one. 
The  sin  of  sins  to  him,  in  a  chorus  girl,  was  in 
dividuality. 

"  You !  new  girl !  "  he  screamed  the  moment  he 
spied  Nance,  "  you  are  out  of  ze  line.  Hold  your 
shoulders  stiff,  so!  Ah,  Dio!  Can  you  not  move 
wiz  ze  rest?  " 

The  girls  started  a  stately  number,  diagonal  from 
down-stage  left  toward  upper  center. 

"  Hold  ze  pose!  "  shouted  the  director.  Then  he 
scrambled  up  on  the  stage  and  seized  Nance  roughly 
by  the  arm.  "  You  are  too  quick ! "  he  shouted. 
"  You  are  too  restless.  We  do  not  want  that  you 
do  a  solo!  Can  you  not  keep  your  person  still? " 

And  to  Nance's  untold  chagrin  she  found  that 


BEHIND  THE  TWINKLING  LIGHTS     207 

she  could  not.  The  moment  the  music  started,  it 
seemed  to  get  into  her  tripping  feet,  her  swinging 
arms,  her  nodding  head;  and  every  extra  step  and 
unnecessary  gesture  that  she  made  evoked  a  storm 
from  the  director. 

Just  when  his  irritation  was  at  his  height,  Reeser 
joined  him  from  the  wings. 

"  Here  's  a  howdy-do !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Flossy 
Pierson  's  sprained  her  ankle." 

"  Ze  leetle  bear?"  shrieked  Pulatki;  then  he 
clutched  his  hair  in  both  hands  and  raved  maledic 
tions  on  the  absent  Flossy. 

"  See  here,"  said  Reeser,  "  this  is  no  time  for 
fireworks.  Who  in  the  devil  is  to  take  her  place?  " 

"  Zere  is  none,"  wailed  Pulatki.  "  She  make  her 
own  part.  I  cannot  teach  it." 

"  It 's  not  the  part  that  bothers  me,"  said  Reeser. 
"  It 's  the  costume.  "  We  've  got  to  take  whoever 
will  fit  it.  Who  's  the  smallest  girl  in  the  chorus?  " 

The  eyes  of  the  two  men  swept  the  double  column 
of  girls  until  they  rested  on  the  one  head  that, 
despite  its  high  coiffure,  failed  to  achieve  the  average 
height. 

"  Come  here !  "  called  Reeser  to  Nance. 

"  But,  no !  "  protested  the  director,  throwing  up 
his  hands.  "  She  is  impossible.  A  cork  on  ze 
water!  A  leaf  in  ze  wind!  I  cannot  teach  her. 
I  vill  not  try!" 

"  It 's  too  late  to  get  anybody  else  for  to-night," 


208  CALVARY  ALLEY 

said  Reeser,  impatiently.  "  Let  her  walk  through 
the  part,  and  we  '11  see  what  can  be  done  in  the 
morning."  Then  seeing  Nance's  indignant  eyes  on 
the  director,  he  added  with  a  comical  twist  of  his 
big  mouth,  "  Want  to  be  a  bear?  " 

"Sure!"  said  Nance,  with  spirit,  "if  the  Dago 
can't  teach  me  to  dance,  maybe  he  can  teach  me  to 
growl." 

The  joke  was  lost  upon  the  director,  but  it  put 
Reeser  into  such  a  good  humor  that  he  sent  her  down 
to  the  dressing-room  to  try  on  the  costume.  Ten 
minutes  later,  a  little  bear,  awkward  but  ecstatic, 
scrambled  madly  up  the  steps,  and  an  excited  voice 
called  out: 

"Look,  Mr.  Reeser,  it  fits!  it  fits!" 

For  the  rest  of  the  morning  Nance  practised  her 
part,  getting  used  to  the  clumsy  suit  of  fur,  learning 
to  adjust  her  mask  so  that  she  could  see  through 
the  little,  round,  animal  eyes,  and  keeping  the  other 
girls  in  a  titter  of  amusement  over  her  surreptitious 
imitation  of  the  irascible  Pulatki. 

When  the  rehearsal  was  over  there  was  much 
good-natured  hustling  and  raillery  as  the  girls 
changed  into  their  street  costumes.  At  Birdie's  in 
vitation  Nance  went  with  her  to  the  rooming-house 
around  the  corner,  where  you  had  to  ring  a  bell  to 
get  in,  a  convention  which  in  itself  spelt  elegance, 
and  up  one  flight,  two  flights,  three  flights  of  car- 


BEHIND  THE  TWINKLING  LIGHTS     209 

peted  steps  to  a  front-hall  bedroom  on  the  fourth 
floor. 

"  Gee,  it 's  a  mess ! "  said  Birdie,  tossing  some 
beribboned  lingerie  from  a  chair  into  an  open  trunk. 
:t  There  's  a  bag  of  rolls  around  here  some  place. 
We  can  make  some  tea  over  the  gas." 

Nance  darted  from  one  object  to  another  with 
excited  cries  of  admiration.  Everything  was  sweet 
and  wonderful  and  perfectly  grand!  Suddenly  she 
came  to  a  halt  before  the  dresser,  in  the  center  of 
which  stood  a  large,  framed  photograph. 

;'  That 's  my  High  Particular,"  said  Birdie,  with 
an  uneasy  laugh,  "  recognize  him  ?  " 

"  It 's  Mac  Clarke !  "  exclaimed  Nance,  incredu 
lously,  "  how  on  earth  did  you  ever  get  his  picture  ?  " 

"  He  give  it  to  me.  How  do  you  reckon  ?  I 
had  n't  laid  eyes  on  him  for  a  couple  of  years  'til 
I  ran  across  him  in  New  York  about  a  month  ago." 

"  Where  'd  you  see  him?" 

"  At  the  theater.  He  come  in  with  a  bunch  of 
other  college  fellows  and  recognized  me  straight  off. 
He  stayed  in  New  York  two  or  three  days,  and 
maybe  we  did  n't  have  a  peach  of  a  time!  Only  he 
got  fired  from  college  for  it  when  he  went  back." 

"Where's  he  now?" 

"  Here  in  town.  Liable  to  blow  in  any  minute. 
If  he  does,  you  don't  want  to  let  on  you  ever  saw 
him  before.  He  won't  remember  you  if  you  don't 


210  CALVARY  ALLEY 

remind  him.     He  never  thinks  of  anybody  twice." 

Nance,  poring  over  every  detail  of  the  photo 
graph,  held  her  own  counsel.  She  was  thinking  of 
the  night  she  had  stood  in  the  drug-store  door,  and 
he  had  kept  the  motor  waiting  while  he  smiled  at 
her  over  his  shoulder.  That  was  a  smile  that  re 
membered  ! 

"  You  want  to  be  careful  what  you  say  to  any 
body,"  Birdie  continued,  "  there  ain't  any  use  airing 
it  around  where  you  live,  or  what  you  been  doing. 
There  ain't  a  girl  in  the  chorus  knows  my  real 
name,  or  where  I  come  from." 

The  allusion  to  home  stirred  Nance's  conscience, 
and  reminded  her  that  over  there  beyond  the  cathe 
dral  spire,  dimly  visible  from  the  window,  lay  a 
certain  little  alley  which  still  had  claims  upon  her. 

"  I  ain't  said  a  thing  to  'em  at  home  about  this," 
she  said.  "  Suppose  they  don't  let  me  do  it?  " 

"Let  nothing!"  said  Birdie.  "Write  a  note  to 
Mrs.  Snawdor,  and  tell  her  you  are  spending  the 
night  down-town  with  me.  You  '11  know  by  morn- 
ning  whether  Reeser  is  going  to  take  you  on  or 
not.  If  he  does,  you  just  want  to  announce  the 
fact  that  you  are  going,  and  go." 

Nance  looked  at  her  with  kindling  eyes.  This 
high-handed  method  appealed  to  her.  After  all 
was  n't  she  past  eighteen  ?  Birdie  had  n't  been  that 
old  when  she  struck  out  for  herself. 

"  What  about  Miss  Bobinet?  "  she  asked  ruefully. 


BEHIND  THE  TWINKLING  LIGHTS     211 

"  The  wiggy  old  party  up  in  Cemetery  Street  ? 
Let  her  go  hang.  You  've  swallowed  her  frizzes 
long  enough." 

Nance  laughed  and  gave  the  older  girl's  arm  a 
rapturous  squeeze.  "  And  you  think  maybe  Mr. 
Reeser  '11  take  me  on  ?  "  she  asked  for  the  sixteenth 
time. 

"  Well,  Flossie  Pierson  has  been  shipped  home, 
and  they  've  got  to  put  somebody  in  her  place.  It 's 
no  cinch  to  pick  up  a  girl  on  the  road,  just  the  right 
size,  who  can  dance  even  as  good  as  you  can.  If 
Reeser  engages  you,  it 's  fifteen  per  for  the  rest  of 
the  season,  and  a  good  chance  for  next." 

"  All  right,  here  goes !  "  cried  Nance,  recklessly, 
seizing  paper  and  pen. 

When  the  hard  rolls  and  strong  tea  which  com 
posed  their  lunch  had  been  disposed  of,  Nance  curled 
herself  luxuriously  on  the  foot  of  the  bed  and 
munched  chocolate  creams,  while  Birdie,  in  a  soiled 
pink  kimono  that  displayed  her  round  white  arms 
and  shapely  throat,  lay  stretched  beside  her.  They 
found  a  great  deal  to  talk  about,  and  still  more  to 
laugh  about.  Nance  loved  to  laugh ;  all  she  wanted 
was  an  excuse,  and  everything  was  an  excuse  to-day ; 
Birdie's  tales  of  stage-door  Johnnies,  the  recent  ire 
of  old  Spagetti,  her  own  imitation  of  Miss  Bobinet 
and  the  ossified  Susan.  Nance  loved  the  cozy  inti 
macy  of  the  little  room;  even  the  heavy  odor  of 
perfumes  and  cosmetics  was  strange  and  fascinating; 


212  CALVARY  ALLEY 

she  thought  Birdie  was  the  prettiest  girl  she  had 
ever  seen.  A  thrilling  vista  of  days  like  this,  spent 
with  her  in  strange  and  wonderful  cities,  opened 
before  her. 

"  I  '11  rig  you  up  in  some  of  my  clothes,  until  you 
get  your  first  pay,"  Birdie  offered,  "  then  we  can 
fit  you  out  right  and  proper.  You  got  the  making 
of  an  awful  pretty  girl  in  you." 

Nance  shrieked  her  derision.  Her  own  charms, 
compared  with  Birdie's  generous  ones,  seemed  ab 
surdly  meager,  as  she  watched  the  older  girl  blow 
rings  from  the  cigarette  which  she  held  daintily 
between  her  first  and  second  finger. 

Nance  had  been  initiated  into  smoking  and  chew 
ing  tobacco  before  she  was  ten,  but  neither  appealed 
to  her.  Watching  Birdie  smoke,  she  had  a  sudden 
desire  to  try  it  again. 

"  Give  us  a  puff,  Birdie,"  she  said. 

Birdie  tossed  the  box  over  and  looked  at  her 
wrist-watch. 

"  We  ought  to  be  fixing  something  for  you  to 
wear  to-night,"  she  said.  "  Like  as  not  Mac  and 
Monte  '11  turn  up  and  ask  us  to  go  somewhere  for 
supper." 

"  Who  is  Monte  ?  "  asked  Nance  with  breathless 
interest. 

"  He 's  a  fat-headed  swell  Mac  runs  with. 
Spends  dollars  like  nickels.  No  rarebit  and  beer 
for  him ;  it 's  champagne  and  caviar  every  time. 


BEHIND  THE  TWINKLING  LIGHTS     213 

You  cotton  to  him,  Nance ;  he  '11  give  you  anything 
you  want." 

"  I  don't  want  him  to  give  me  anything,"  said 
Nance  stoutly.  "  Time  I  'm  earning  fifteen  dollars 
a  week,  I  '11  be  making  presents  myself." 

Birdie  lifted  her  eyebrows  and  sighed. 

"  You  funny  kid ! "  she  said,  "  you  got  a  heap  to 
learn." 

During  the  early  part  of  the  afternoon  the  girls 
shortened  one  of  Birdie's  dresses  and  tacked  in  its 
folds  to  fit  Nance's  slender  figure.  Birdie  worked 
in  fits  and  starts;  she  listened  every  time  anything 
stopped  in  the  street  below,  and  made  many  trips 
to  the  window.  By  and  by  her  easy  good  humor 
gave  place  to  irritability.  At  five  o'clock  she  put 
on  her  hat,  announcing  that  she  had  to  go  over  to 
the  drug  store  to  do  some  telephoning. 

"  Lock  the  door,"  she  counseled,  "  and  if  anybody 
knocks  while  I  'm  gone,  don't  answer." 

Nance,  left  alone,  sewed  on  for  a  while  in  a  flutter 
of  happy  thoughts ;  then  she  got  up  and  turned  her 
chair  so  she  would  not  have  to  crane  her  neck  to 
see  the  photograph  on  the  dresser. 

"The  making  of  an  awful  pretty  girl!"  she 
whispered;  then  she  got  up  and  went  over  to  the 
mirror.  Pulling  out  the  hairpins  that  held  the 
elaborate  puffs  in  place,  she  let  her  shining  mass  of 
hair  about  her  shoulders  and  studied  her  face  in 
tently.  Her  mouth,  she  decided,  was  too  big,  her 


214  CALVARY  ALLEY 

eyes  too  far  apart,  her  neck  too  thin.  Then  she 
made  a  face  at  herself  and  laughed: 

"  Who  cares?  "  she  said. 

By  and  by  it  got  too  dark  to  sew ;  the  match  box 
refused  to  be  found,  and  she  decided  it  was  time 
to  stop  anyhow.  She  opened  the  window  and,  gaily 
humming  the  music  of  the  Little  Bear  dance,  leaned 
across  the  sill,  while  the  cool  evening  air  fanned  her 
hot  cheeks. 

Far  away  in  the  west,  over  the  housetops,  she 
could  see  the  stately  spire  of  the  cathedral,  a  brown 
silhouette  against  a  pale,  lemon  sky.  Down  below, 
through  the  dull,  yellow  dusk,  faint  lights  were 
already  defining  the  crisscross  of  streets.  The 
whispers  of  the  \vaking  city  came  up  to  her,  eager, 
expectant,  like  the  subdued  murmur  of  a  vast  audi 
ence  just  before  the  curtain  ascends.  Then  sud 
denly,  written  on  the  twilight  in  letters  of  fire,  came 
the  familiar  words,  "  You  get  what  you  pay  for." 

Nance's  fingers  ceased  to  drum  on  the  window- 
sill.  It  was  the  big  sign  facing  Post-Office  Square, 
old  Post-Office  Square,  with  its  litter  of  papers, 
its  battered  weather  kiosk,  and  the  old  green  bench 
where  she  and  Dan  had  sat  so  many  evenings  on 
their  way  home  from  the  factory.  Dan !  A  wave 
of  remorse  swept  over  her.  She  had  forgotten  him 
as  completely  as  if  he  had  never  existed.  And  now 
that  she  remembered  what  was  she  to  do?  Go  to 
him  and  make  a  clean  breast  of  it?  And  run  the 


BEHIND  THE  TWINKLING  LIGHTS     215 

risk  of  having  him  invoke  the  aid  of  Mrs.  Purdy 
and  possibly  of  Miss  Stanley?  Not  that  she  was 
afraid  of  their  stopping  her.  She  repeated  to  her 
self  the  words  of  defiance  with  which  she  would 
meet  their  objections  and  the  scorn  which  she  would 
fling  at  their  "nice  girl  jobs."  No;  it  was  Dan 
himself  she  was  afraid  of.  Her  imagination  quailed 
before  his  strong,  silent  face,  and  his  deep,  hurt 
eyes.  She  had  always  taken  Dan's  part  in  every 
thing,  and  something  told  her  she  would  take  it 
now,  even  against  herself. 

The  only  safe  course  was  to  keep  away  from 
him,  until  the  great  step  was  taken,  and  then  write 
him  a  nice  long  letter.  The  nicest  she  had  ever  writ 
ten  to  anybody.  Dear  old  Dan  —  dear,  dear  old 
Dan. 

A  long,  low  whistle  from  the  sidewalk  opposite 
made  her  start,  and  look  down.  At  first  no  one 
was  visible ;  then  a  match  was  struck,  flared  yellow 
for  a  second,  and  went  out,  and  again  that  low, 
significant  whistle.  Nance  dropped  on  her  knees 
beside  the  window  and  watched.  A  man's  figure 
emerged  from  the  gloom  and  crossed  the  street. 
A  moment  later  she  heard  the  ringing  of  the  door 
bell.  Could  Dan  have  heard  of  her  escapade  and 
come  after  her?  But  nobody  knew  where  she  was; 
the  note  to  Mrs.  Snawdor  still  lay  on  the  corner 
of  the  dresser. 

She  heard  a  step  on  the  stairs,  then  three  light 


216  CALVARY  ALLEY 

taps  on  the  door.  She  scrambled  to  her  feet  before 
she  remembered  Birdie's  caution,  then  stood  mo 
tionless,  listening. 

Again  the  taps  and,  "  I  say,  Bird ! "  came  in  a 
vibrant  whisper  from  without. 

It  seemed  to  Nance  that  whoever  it  was  must 
surely  hear  the  noisy  beating  of  her  heart.  Then 
she  heard  the  steps  move  away  and  she  sighed  with 
relief. 

Birdie,  coming  in  later,  dismissed  the  matter  with 
gay  denial. 

"One  of  your  pipe-dreams,  Nance!  It  must 
have  been  one  of  the  other  boarders,  or  the  wash 
woman.  Stop  your  mooning  over  there  by  the 
window  and  get  yourself  dressed;  we  got  just 
thirty-five  minutes  to  get  down  to  the  theater." 

Nance  shook  off  her  misgivings  and  rushed  head 
long  into  her  adventure.  It  was  no  time  to  dream 
of  Dan  and  the  letter  she  was  going  to  write  him, 
or  to  worry  about  a  disturbing  whistle  in  the  street, 
or  a  mysterious  whisper  on  the  other  side  of  the 
door.  Was  n't  it  enough  that  she,  Nance  Molloy, 
who  only  yesterday  was  watching  funerals  crawl 
by  in  Cemetery  Street,  wras  about  to  dance  to  real 
music,  on  a  real  stage,  before  a  great  audience? 
She  had  taken  her  first  mad  plunge  into  the  seething 
current  of  life,  and  in  these  first  thrilling,  absorbing 
moments  she  failed  to  see  the  danger  signals  that 
flashed  across  the  darkness. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE    FIRST    NIGHT 

AT  a  quarter-past  eight  in  the  dressing-rooms 
of  the  Gaiety,  pandemonium  reigned.  Red 
birds,  fairies,  gnomes,  will-o'-the-wisps  flitted  about, 
begging,  borrowing,  stealing  articles  from  each 
other  in  good-humored  confusion.  In  and  out 
among  them  darted  the  little  bear,  slapping  at  each 
passerby  with  her  furry  paws,  practising  steps  on 
her  cushioned  toes,  and  rushing  back  every  now  and 
then  to  Birdie,  who  stood  before  a  mirror  in  red 
tights,  with  a  towel  around  her  neck,  putting  the 
final  touches  on  her  make-up. 

It  was  hot  and  stuffy,  and  the  air  reeked  with 
grease  paint.  There  was  a  perpetual  chatter  with 
occasional  outbursts  of  laughter,  followed  by  per 
emptory  commands  of  "Less  noise  down  there!" 
In  the  midst  of  the  hub-bub  a  call-boy  gave  the 
signal  for  the  opening  number  of  the  chorus;  the 
chatter  and  giggling  ceased,  and  the  bright  costumes 
settled  into  a  definite  line  as  the  girls  filed  up  the 
stairs. 

Nance,  left  alone,  sat  on  a  trunk  and  waited  for 
her  turn  in  a  fever  of  impatience.  She  caught  the 

217 


218  CALVARY  ALLEY 

opening  strains  of  the  orchestra  as  it  swung  into 
the  favorite  melody  of  the  day ;  she  could  hear  the 
thud  of  dancing  feet  overhead.  She  was  like  a 
stoker  shut  up  in  the  hold  of  the  vessel  while  a  lively 
skirmish  is  in  progress  on  deck. 

As  she  sat  there  the  wardrobe  woman,  a  matronly- 
looking,  Irish  person,  came  up  and  ordered  her 
peremptorily  to  get  off  the  trunk.  Nance  not  only 
complied,  but  she  offered  her  assistance  in  getting  it 
out  of  the  passage. 

"  May  ye  have  some  one  as  civil  as  ye  are  to 
wait  on  ye  when  ye  are  as  old  as  I  am !  "  said  the 
woman.  "  It 's  your  first  night,  eh?  " 

"  Yep.  Maybe  my  last  for  all  I  know.  They  're 
trying  me  out." 

"  Good  luck  to  ye,"  said  the  woman.  "  Well  I 
mind  the  night  I  made  me  first  bow." 

"You!" 

"  No  less.  I  'd  a  waist  on  me  ye  could  span  wid 
yer  two  hands.  And  legs!  well,  it  ain't  fer  me  to 
be  braggin',  but  there  ain't  a  girl  in  the  chorus  kin 
stack  up  alongside  what  I  oncet  was!  Me  an'  a 
lad  named  Tim  Moriarty  did  a  turn  called  '  The 
Wearing  of  the  Green,' — '  Ryan  and  Moriarty ' 
was  the  team.  I  kin  see  the  names  on  the  bill-board 
now!  We  had  'em  laughin'  an'  cryin'  at  the  same 
time,  'til  their  tears  run  into  their  open  mouths !  " 

"  Wisht  I  could  've  seen  you,"  said  Nance.  "  I 
bet  it  was  great." 


THE  FIRST  NIGHT  219 

The  wardrobe  woman,  unused  to  such  a  sympa 
thetic  listener,  would  have  lingered  indefinitely  had 
not  a  boy  handed  Nance  a  box  which  absorbed  all 
her  attention. 

"  Miss  Birdie  La  Rue,"  was  inscribed  on  one  side 
of  the  card  that  dangled  from  it  on  a  silver  cord, 
and  on  the  other  was  scribbled,  "  Monte  and  I  will 
wait  for  you  after  the  show.  Bring  another  girl. 
M.  D.  C." 

"And  I'm  the  other  girl!"  Nance  told  herself 
rapturously. 

There  was  a  flurry  in  the  wings  above  and  the 
chorus  overflowed  down  the  stairs. 

"  It 's  a  capacity  house,"  gasped  Birdie,  "  but  a 
regular  cold-storage  plant.  We  never  got  but  one 
round.  Spagetti  is  having  spasms." 

"  What 's  a  round  ?  "  demanded  Nance,  but  no 
body  had  time  to  enlighten  her. 

It  was  not  until  the  end  of  the  second  act  that 
her  name  was  called,  and  she  went  scampering  up 
the  stairs  as  fast  as  her  clumsy  suit  would  permit. 
The  stage  was  set  for  a  forest  scene,  with  gnarled 
trees  and  hanging  vines  and  a  transparent  drop  that 
threw  a  midnight  blue  haze  over  the  landscape. 

"  Crawl  up  on  the  stump  there !  "  ordered  Reeser, 
attending  to  half  a  dozen  things  at  once.  "  Put 
you  four  paws  together.  Head  up !  Hold  the  pose 
until  the  gnomes  go  off.  When  I  blow  the  whistle, 
get  down  and  dance.  I  '11  get  the  will-o'-the-wisps 


220  CALVARY  ALLEY 

on  as  quick  as  I  can.  Clear  the  stage  everybody! 
Ready  for  the  curtain?  Let  her  go!  " 

Nance,  peering  excitedly  through  the  little  round 
holes  of  her  mask,  saw  the  big  curtain  slowly  ascend, 
revealing  only  a  dazzling  row  of  footlights  beyond. 
Then  gradually  out  of  the  dusk  loomed  the  vast 
auditorium  with  its  row  after  row  of  dim  white 
faces,  reaching  back  and  up,  up  further  than  she 
dared  lift  her  head  to  see.  From  down  below  some 
where  sounded  the  weird  tinkle  of  elfin  music,  and 
tiptoeing  out  from  every  tree  and  bush  came  a 
green-clad  gnome,  dancing  in  stealthy  silence  in  the 
sleeping  forest.  Quite  unconsciously  Nance  began 
to  keep  time.  It  was  such  glorious  fun  playing  at 
being  animals  and  fairies  in  the  woods  at  night. 
Without  realizing  what  she  was  doing,  she  dropped 
into  what  she  used  to  call  in  the  old  sweat-shop 
days,  "  dancin'  settin'  down." 

A  ripple  of  amusement  passed  through  the  audi 
ence,  and  she  looked  around  to  see  what  the  gnomes 
were  up  to,  but  they  were  going  off  the  stage,  and 
the  suppressed  titter  continued.  A  soft  whistle 
sounded  in  the  wings,  and  with  a  furiously  beating 
heart,  she  slid  down  from  her  high  stump  and 
ambled  down  to  the  footlights. 

All  might  have  gone  well,  had  not  a  sudden  shaft 
of  white  light  shot  toward  her  from  the  balcony 
opposite,  making  a  white  spot  around  the  place  she 


THE  FIRST  NIGHT  221 

was  standing.  She  got  out  of  it  only  to  find  that 
it  followed  her,  and  in  the  bewilderment  of  the  dis 
covery,  she  lost  her  head  completely.  All  her  care 
fully  practised  steps  and  poses  were  utterly  forgot 
ten;  she  could  think  of  nothing  but  that  pursuing 
light,  and  her  mad  desire  to  get  out  of  it. 

Then  something  the  director  had  said  at  the  re 
hearsal  flashed  across  ther  confusion.  "  She  makes 
her  own  part,"  he  had  said  of  Flossy  Pierson,  and 
Nance,  with  grim  determination,  decided  to  do  the 
same.  A  fat  man  in  the  left  hand  box  had  laughed 
out  when  she  discovered  the  spotlight.  She  deter 
mined  to  make  him  laugh  again.  Simulating  the 
dismay  that  at  first  was  genuine,  she  began  to  play 
tag  with  the  shaft  of  light,  dodging  it,  jumping 
over  it,  hiding  from  it  behind  the  stump,  leading  it 
a  merry  chase  from  corner  to  corner.  The  fat  man 
grew  hysterical.  The  audience  laughed  at  him,  and 
then  it  began  to  laugh  at  Nance.  She  threw  herself 
into  the  frolic  with  the  same  mad  abandonment  with 
which  she  used  to  dance  to  the  hand-organ  in  front 
of  Slap  Jack's  saloon.  She  cut  as  many  fantastic 
capers  as  a  frisky  kitten  playing  in  the  twilight ;  she 
leapt  and  rolled  and  romped,  and  the  spectators, 
quick  to  feel  the  contagion  of  something  new  and 
young  and  joyful,  woke  up  for  the  first  time  during 
the  evening,  and  followed  her  pranks  with  round 
after  round  of  applause. 


222  CALVARY  ALLEY 

When  at  last  the  music  ceased,  she  scampered 
into  the  wings  and  sank  gasping  and  laughing  into 
a  chair. 

"  They  want  you  back !  "  cried  Reeser,  excitedly 
beckoning  to  her.  "  Go  on  again.  Take  the  call." 

"  The  what  ?  "  said  Nance,  bewildered.  But  be 
fore  she  could  find  out,  she  was  thrust  forward  and, 
not  being  able  to  see  where  she  was  going,  she 
tripped  and  fell  sprawling  upon  the  very  scene  of 
her  recent  triumph. 

In  the  confusion  of  the  moment  she  instinctively 
snatched  off  her  mask,  and  as  she  did  so  the  sea 
of  faces  merged  suddenly  into  one.  In  the  orches 
tra  below,  gazing  at  her  with  dropped  jaw  over  his 
arrested  fiddle-bow,  was  old  Mr.  Demry,  with  such 
a  comical  look  of  paralyzed  amazement  on  his  face 
that  Nance  burst  into  laughter. 

There  was  something  in  her  glowing,  childish 
face,  innocent  of  make-up,  and  in  her  seeming  frank 
enjoyment  of  the  mishap  that  took  the  house  by 
storm.  The  man  in  the  box  applauded  until  his 
face  was  purple ;  gloved  hands  in  the  parquet  tapped 
approval ;  the  balcony  stormed ;  the  gallery  whistled. 

She  never  knew  how  she  got  off  the  stage,  or 
whether  the  director  shouted  praise  or  blame  as  she 
darted  through  the  wings.  It  was  not  until  she 
reached  the  dressing-room,  and  the  girls  crowded 
excitedly  around  her  that  she  knew  she  had  scored 
a  hit. 


THE  FIRST  NIGHT  223 

She  came  on  once  more  at  the  end  of  the  last  act 
in  the  grand  ballet,  where  all  the  dancers  performed 
intricate  manceuvers  under  changing  lights.  Every 
time  the  wheeling  figures  brought  her  round  to  the 
footlights,  there  was  a  greeting  from  the  front,  and, 
despite  warnings,  she  could  not  suppress  a  respon 
sive  wag  of  the  head  or  a  friendly  wave  of  the 
paw. 

"  She  is  so  fresh,  so  fresh !  "  groaned  Pulatki 
from  the  wings. 

"  She  's  alive,"  said  Reeser.  "  She  '11  never  make 
a  show  girl,  and  she  's  got  no  voice  to  speak  of. 
But  she  's  got  a  personality  that  climbs  right  over 
the  footlights.  I  'm  going  to  engage  her  for  the 
rest  of  the  season." 

When  the  play  was  over,  Nance,  struggling  into 
Birdie's  complicated  finery  in  the  dressing-room  be 
low,  wondered  how  she  could  ever  manage  to  exist 
until  the  next  performance.  Her  one  consolation 
was  the  immediate  prospect  of  seeing  Mac  Clarke 
and  the  mysterious  Monte  to  whom  Birdie  had  said 
she  must  be  nice.  As  she  pinned  on  a  saucy  fur 
toque  in  place  of  her  own  cheap  millinery,  she 
viewed  herself  critically  in  the  glass.  Beside  the 
big  show  girls  about  her,  she  felt  ridiculously  young 
and  slender  and  insignificant. 

"  I  believe  I  '11  put  on  some  paint !  "  she  said. 

Birdie  laughed. 

"  What  for,  Silly  ?     Your  cheeks  are  blazing  now. 


224  CALVARY  ALLEY 

You  '11  have  time  enough  to  paint  'em  when  you  've 
been  dancing  a  couple  of  years." 

They  were  among  the  last  to  leave  the  dressing- 
room,  and  when  they  reached  the  stage  entrance, 
Birdie  spied  two  figures. 

"  There  they  are !  "  she  whispered  to  Nance,  "  the 
fat  one  is  Monte,  the  other — ' 

Nance  had  an  irresistible  impulse  to  run  away. 
Now  that  the  time  had  come,  she  did  n't  want  to 
meet  those  sophisticated  young  men  in  their  long 
coats  and  high  hats.  She  would  n't  know  how  to 
act,  what  to  say.  But  Birdie  had  already  joined 
them,  and  was  turning  to  say  airily : 

"  Shake  hands  with  my  friend  Miss  Millay,  Mr. 
Clarke  —  and,  I  say,  Monte,  what 's  your  other 
name?  " 

The  older  of  the  young  men  laughed  good- 
naturedly. 

"  Monte  '11  do,"  he  said.  "  I  'm  that  to  half  the 
girls  in  town." 

Mac's  bright  bold  eyes  scanned  Nance  curiously. 
"Where  have  I  seen  you  before?"  he  asked  in 
stantly. 

"Don't  you  recognize  her?"  said  Monte. 
"  She  's  the  little  bear !  I  *d  know  that  smile  in  ten 
thousand !  " 

Nance  presented  him  with  one  on  the  spot,  out  of 
gratitude  for  the  diversion.  She  was  already  shar 
ing  Birdie's  wish  that  no  reference  be  made  to  Cal- 


THE  FIRST  NIGHT  225 

vary  Alley  or  the  factory.  They  had  no  place  in 
this  rose-colored  world. 

Monte  and  the  two  girls  had  descended  the  steps 
to  the  street  when  the  former  looked  over  his 
shoulder. 

"  Why  does  n't  Mac  come  on  ? "  he  asked. 
"  Who  is  the  old  party  he  is  arguing  with  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Lord !  It 's  old  man  Demry,"  exclaimed 
Birdie  in  exasperation.  "  He  plays  in  the  orchestra. 
Full  of  dope  half  of  the  time.  Why  don't  Mac 
come  on  and  leave  him?  " 

But  the  old  musician  was  not  to  be  left.  He 
pushed  past  Mac  and,  staggering  down  the  steps, 
laid  his  hand  on  Nance's  arm. 

"  You  must  come  home  with  me,  Nancy,"  he 
urged  unsteadily.  "  I  want  to  talk  to  you.  Want 
to  tell  you  something." 

"  See  here ! "  broke  in  Mac  Clarke,  peremptorily, 
"  is  this  young  lady  your  daughter  ?  " 

Mr.  Demry  put  his  hand  to  his  dazed  head 
and  looked  from  one  to  the  other  in  troubled  uncer 
tainty. 

"  No,"  he  said  incoherently.  "  I  had  a  daughter 
once.  But  she  is  much  older  than  this  child.  She 
must  be  nearly  forty  by  now,  and  to  think  I  have  n't 
seen  her  face  for  twenty-two  years.  I  should  n't 
even  know  her  if  I  should  see  her.  I  could  n't  make 
shipwreck  of  her  life,  you  know  —  shipwreck  of  one 
you  love  best  in  the  world !  " 


226  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  Oh,  come  ahead !  "  called  Birdie  from  below. 
"  He  don't  know  what  he  's  babbling  about." 

But  the  old  man's  wrinkled  hand  still  clung  to 
Nance's  arm.  "  Don't  go  with  them !  "  he  implored. 
"  I  know.  I  've  seen.  Ten  years  playing  for  girls 
to  dance.  Stage  no  place  for  you,  Nancy.  Come 
home  with  me,  child.  Come !  "  He  was  trembling 
with  earnestness  and  his  voice  quavered. 

"  Let  go  of  her  arm,  you  old  fool !  "  cried  Mac, 
angrily.  "  It 's  none  of  your  business  where  she 
goes !  " 

"  Nor  of  yours,  either !  "  Nance  flashed  back  in 
stantly.  "  You  keep  your  hands  off  him !  " 

Then  she  turned  to  Mr.  Demry  and  patiently  tried 
to  explain  that  she  was  spending  the  night  with 
Birdie  Smelts ;  he  remembered  Birdie  —  used  to  live 
across  the  hall  from  him?  She  was  coming  home 
in  the  morning.  She  would  explain  everything  to 
Mrs.  Snawdor.  She  promised  she  would. 

Mr.  Demry,  partly  reassured,  relaxed  his  grasp. 

"Who  is  this  young  man,  Nancy?"  he  asked 
childishly.  "  Tell  me  his  name." 

"  It 's  Mr.  Mac  Clarke,"  said  Nance,  despite 
Birdie's  warning  glance. 

A  swift  look  of  intelligence  swept  the  dazed  old 
face ;  then  terror  gathered  in  his  eyes. 

"  Not  —  not  —  Macpherson  Clarke  ?  "  he  stam 
mered  ;  then  he  sat  down  in  the  doorway.  "  O  my 
God !  "  he  sobbed,  dropping  his  head  in  his  hands. 


THE  FIRST  NIGHT  227 

"  He  won't  go  home  'til  morning !  "  hummed 
Monte,  catching  Birdie  by  the  arm  and  skipping 
down  the  passage.  Nance  stood  for  a  moment  look 
ing  down  at  the  maudlin  old  figure  muttering  to 
himself  on  the  door-step;  then  she,  too,  turned  and 
followed  the  others  out  into  the  gay  midnight 
throng. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

PREPARATIONS    FOR    FLIGHT 

WHAT  a  radically  different  place  the  world 
seems  when  one  does  n't  have  to  begin  the 
day  with  an  alarm  clock!  There  is  a  hateful  au 
thority  in  its  brassy,  peremptory  summons  that  puts 
one  on  the  defensive  immediately.  To  be  sure, 
Nance  dreamed  she  heard  it  the  following  day  at 
noon,  and  sprang  up  in  bed  with  the  terrifying  con 
viction  that  she  would  be  late  at  Miss  Bobinet's. 
But  when  she  saw  where  she  was,  she  gave  a  sigh 
of  relief,  and  snuggled  down  against  Birdie's  warm 
shoulder,  and  tried  to  realize  what  had  happened  to 
her. 

The  big  theater,  the  rows  of  smiling  faces,  the 
clapping  hands  —  surely  they  must  have  all  been  a 
dream  ?  And  Mr.  Demry  ?  Why  had  he  sat  on  the 
steps  and  cried  into  a  big  starchy  handkerchief? 
Oh,  yes ;  she  remembered  now,  but  she  did  n't  like 
to  remember,  so  she  hurried  on. 

There  was  a  cafe,  big  and  noisy,  with  little  tables, 
and  a  woman  who  stood  on  a  platform,  with  her 
dress  dragging  off  one  shoulder,  and  sang  a  beau- 

228 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  FLIGHT      229 

tiful  song,  called  "  I  'm  A-wearying  for  You."  Mr. 
Monte  did  n't  think  it  was  pretty ;  he  had  teased  her 
for  thinking  so.  But  then  he  had  teased  her  for 
not  liking  the  raw  oysters,  and  for  saying  the  cham 
pagne  made  her  nose  go  to  sleep.  They  had  all 
teased  her  and  laughed  at  everything  she  said.  She 
did  n't  care ;  she  liked  it.  They  thought  she  was 
funny  and  called  her  "  Cubby."  At  least  Mr. 
Monte  did.  Mr.  Mac  did  n't  call  her  anything. 
He  talked  most  of  the  time  to  Birdie,  but  his  eyes 
were  all  for  her,  with  a  smile  that  sort  of  remem 
bered  and  sort  of  forgot,  and  — 

"  Say,  Birdie!  "  She  impulsively  interrupted  her 
own  confused  reflections.  "  Do  you  think  they 
liked  me  —  honest  ?  " 

"  Who?  "  said  Birdie,  drowsily,  "  the  audience?  " 

"  No.  Those  fellows  last  night.  I  have  n't  got 
any  looks  to  brag  on,  and  I  'm  as  green  as  a  string- 
bean  !  " 

"That's  what  tickles  'em,"  said  Birdie.  "Be 
sides,  you  can't  ever  tell  what  makes  a  girl  take. 
You  got  a  independent  way  of  walking  and  talking, 
and  Monte  's  crazy  'bout  your  laugh.  But  you  're 
a  funny  kid ;  you  beckon  a  feller  with  one  hand  and 
slap  his  face  with  the  other." 

"  Not  unless  he  gets  nervy !  "  said  Nance. 

After  what  euphemistically  might  be  termed  a 
buffet  breakfast,  prepared  over  the  gas  and  served 
on  the  trunk,  Nance  departed  for  Calvary  Alley,  to 


230  CALVARY  ALLEY 

proclaim  to  the  family  her  declaration  of  independ 
ence.  She  was  prepared  for  a  battle  royal  with  all 
whom  it  might  concern,  and  was  therefore  greatly 
relieved  to  find  only  her  stepmother  at  home.  That 
worthy  lady  surrendered  before  a  gun  was  fired. 

"Ain't  that  Irish  luck  fer  you?"  she  exclaimed, 
almost  enviously.  "  Imagine  one  of  Yager's  and 
Snawdor's  chilclern  gittin'  on  the  stage!  If  Bud 
Molloy  had  n't  taken  to  railroadin',  he  could  'a'  been 
a  end  man  in  a  minstrel  show!  You  got  a  lot  of 
his  takin'  ways,  Nance.  It 's  a  Lord's  pity  you  ain't 
got  his  looks!  " 

"  Oh,  give  me  time !  "  said  Nance,  whose  spirits 
were  soaring. 

"  I  sort  'er  thought  of  joining  the  ballet  onct  my 
self,"  said  Mrs.  Snawdor,  with  a  conscious  smile. 
"  It  was  on  account  of  a  scene-shifter  I  was  runnin' 
with  along  about  the  time  I  met  your  pa." 

"  You !  "  exclaimed  Nance.  "  Oh !  have  n't  I  got 
a  picture  of  you  dancing.  Wait  'til  I  show  you!  " 
And  ably  assisted  by  the  bolster  and  the  bedspread, 
she  gave  a  masterly  imitation  of  her  stout  step 
mother  that  made  the  original  limp  with  laughter. 
Then  quite  as  suddenly,  Nance  collapsed  into  a  chair 
and  grew  very  serious. 

"  Say !  "  she  demanded  earnestly,  "  honest  to 
goodness  now  !  Do  you  think  there  's  any  sin  in  me 
going  on  the  stage  ?  " 

"  Sin !  "  repeated  Mrs.  Snawdor.     "  Why,  I  think 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  FLIGHT       231 

it 's  elegant.  I  was  sayin'  so  to  Mrs.  Smelts  only 
yesterday  when  she  was  takin'  on  about  Birdie's 
treatin'  her  so  mean  an'  never  comin'  to  see  her  or 
writin'  to  her.  '  Don't  lay  it  on  the  stage,'  I  says 
to  her.  '  Lay  it  on  Birdie ;  she  always  was  a  stuck- 
up  piece.' ' 

Nance  pondered  the  matter,  her  chin  on  her  palm. 
Considering  the  chronic  fallibility  of  Mrs.  Snaw- 
dor's  judgment,  she  would  have  been  more  comfort 
able  if  she  had  met  with  some  opposition. 

"  Mr.  Demry  thinks  it 's  wrong,"  said  Nance,  tak 
ing  upon  herself  the  role  of  counsel  for  the  prosecu 
tion.  "  He  took  on  something  fierce  when  he  saw 
me  last  night." 

"  He  never  knowed  what  he  was  doin',"  Mrs. 
Snawdor  said.  "  They  tell  me  he  can  play  in  the 
orchestry,  when  he  's  full  as  a  nut." 

"  And  there  's  Uncle  Jed,"  continued  Nance  un 
easily.  "  What  you  reckon  he  's  going  to  say  ?  " 

"  You  leave  that  to  me,"  said  Mrs.  Snawdor, 
darkly.  "  Mr.  Burks  ain't  goin'  to  git  a  inklin'  'til 
you  've  went.  There  ain't  nobody  I  respect  more 
on  the  face  of  the  world  than  I  do  Jed  Burks,  but 
some  people  is  so  all-fired  good  that  livin'  with  'em 
is  like  wearin'  new  shoes  the  year  round." 

'T  ain't  as  if  I  was  doing  anything  wicked," 
said  Nance,  this  time  counsel  for  the  defense. 

"  Course  not,"  agreed  Mrs.  Snawdor.  "  How 
much  they  goin'  to  pay  you  ?  " 


232  CALVARY  ALLEY 

The  incredible  sum  was  mentioned,  and  Mrs. 
Snawdor's  imagination  took  instant  flight. 

"  You  '11  be  gittin'  a  autymobile  at  that  rate. 
Say,  if  I  send  Lobelia  round  to  Cemetery  Street  and 
git  yer  last  week's  pay,  can  I  have  it?  " 

Nance  was  counting  on  that  small  sum  to  finish 
payment  on  her  spring  suit,  but  in  the  face  of  immi 
nent  affluence  she  could  ill  afford  to  be  niggardly. 

"  I  '11  buy  Rosy  V.  some  shoes,  an'  pay  somethin' 
on  the  cuckoo  clock,"  planned  Mrs.  Snawdor,  "  an' 
I  've  half  a  mind  to  take  another  policy  on  William 
J.  That  boy  's  that  venturesome  it  would  n't  sur 
prise  me  none  to  see  him  git  kilt  any  old  time !  " 

Nance,  who  had  failed  to  convince  herself,  either 
as  counsel  for  the  defense  or  counsel  for  the  prose 
cution,  assumed  the  prerogative  of  judge  and  dis 
missed  the  case.  If  older  people  had  such  different 
opinions  about  right  and  wrong,  what  was  the  use 
in  her  bothering  about  it?  With  a  shrug  of  her 
shoulders  she  set  to  work  sorting  her  clothes  and 
packing  the  ones  she  needed  in  a  box. 

"  The  gingham  dresses  go  to  Fidy,"  she  said  with 
reckless  generosity,  "  the  blue  skirt  to  Lobelia,  and 
my  Madonna  — "  Her  eyes  rested  wistfully  on  her 
most  cherished  possession.  "  I  think  I  'd  like  Rosy 
to  have  that  when  she  grows  up." 

"  All  right,"  agreed  Mrs.  Snawdor.  "  There 
ain't  no  danger  of  anybody  takin'  it  away  from 
her." 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  FLIGHT      233 

Nance  was  kneeling  on  the  floor,  tying  a  cord 
about  her  box  when  she  heard  steps  on  the  stairs. 

"  Uncle  Jed  ?  "  she  asked  in  alarm. 

"  No.  Just  Snawdor.  He  won't  ast  no  ques 
tions.  He  ain't  got  gumption  enough  to  be  curi 
ous." 

"  I  hate  to  go  sneaking  off  like  this  without  telling 
everybody  good-by,"  said  Nance  petulantly,  "  Uncle 
Jed,  and  the  children,  and  the  Levinskis,  and  Mr. 
Demry,  and  —  and  —  Dan." 

"  You  don't  want  to  take  no  risks,"  said  Mrs. 
Snawdor,  importantly.  "  There  's  a  fool  society  for 
everything  under  the  sun,  an'  somebody  '11  be  tryin' 
to  git  out  a  injunction.  I  don't  mind  swearin'  to 
whatever  age  you  got  to  be,  but  Mr.  Burks  is  so 
sensitive  about  them  things." 

"  All  right,"  said  Nance,  flinging  on  her  hat  and 
coat,  "  tell  'em  how  it  was  when  I  'm  gone.  I  '11  be 
sending  you  money  before  long." 

"  That 's  right,"  whispered  Mrs.  Snawdor,  hang 
ing  over  the  banister  as  Nance  felt  her  way  down 
the  stairs.  "  You  be  good  to  yerself  an'  see  if  you 
can't  git  me  a  theayter  ticket  for  to-morrow  night. 
Git  two,  an'  I  '11  take  Mis'  Gorman." 

Never  had  Nance  tripped  so  lightly  down  those 
dark,  narrow  stairs  —  the  stairs  her  feet  had  helped 
to  wear  away  in  her  endless  pilgrimages  with  buck 
ets  of  coal  and  water  and  beer,  with  finished  and 
unfinished  garments,  and  omnipresent  Snawdor 


234  CALVARY  ALLEY 

babies.  She  was  leaving  it  all  forever,  along  with 
the  smell  of  pickled  herrings  and  cabbage  and  soap 
suds.  But  she  was  not  going  to  forget  the  family ! 
Already  she  was  planning  munificent  gifts  from  that 
fabulous  sum  that  was  henceforth  to  be  her  weekly 
portion. 

At  Mr.  Demry's  closed  door  she  paused;  then 
hastily  retracing  her  steps,  she  slipped  back  to  her 
own  room  and  got  a  potted  geranium,  bearing  one 
dirty-faced  blossom.  This  she  placed  on  the  floor 
outside  his  door  and  then,  picking  up  her  big  box, 
she  slipped  quickly  out  of  the  house,  through  the 
alley  and  into  the  street. 

It  was  late  when  she  got  back  to  Birdie's  room, 
and  as  she  entered,  she  was  startled  by  the  sound  of 
smothered  sobbing. 

"  Birdie!  "  she  cried  in  sudden  alarm,  peering  into 
the  semi-darkness,  "  what 's  the  matter  ?  Are  you 
fired?" 

Birdie  started  up  hastily  from  the  bed  where  she 
had  been  lying  face  downward,  and  dried  her  eyes. 

"  No,"  she  said  crossly.  "  Nothing  's  the  matter, 
only  I  got  the  blues." 

"  The  blues !  "  repeated  Nance,  incredulously. 
"What  for?" 

"  Oh,  everything.     I  wish  I  was  dead." 

"  Birdie  Smelts,  what 's  happened  to  you  ?  "  de 
manded  Nance  in  alarm,  sitting  by  her  on  the  bed 
and  trying  to  put  her  arm  around  her. 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  FLIGHT      235 

"Whoever  said  anything  had  happened?"  asked 
the  older  girl,  pushing  her  away.  "  Stop  asking 
fool  questions  and  get  dressed.  We'll  be  late  as 
it  is." 

For  some  time  they  went  about  their  preparations 
in  silence;  then  Nance,  partly  to  relieve  the  tension, 
and  partly  because  the  matter  was  of  vital  interest, 
asked : 

"  Do  you  reckon  Mr.  Mac  and  Mr.  Monte  will 
come  again  to-night  ?  " 

"  You  can't  tell,"  said  Birdie.  "  What  do  they 
care  about  engagements?  We  are  nothing  but  dirt 
to  them  —  just  dirt  under  their  old  patent-leather 
pumps!  " 

This  bitterness  on  Birdie's  part  was  so  different 
from  her  customary  superiority  where  men  were 
concerned,  that  Nance  gasped. 

"  If  they  do  come,"  continued  Birdie  vindictively, 
"  you  just  watch  me  teach  Mac  Clarke  a  thing  or 
two.  He  need  n't  think  because  his  folks  happen 
to  be  swells,  he  can  treat  me  any  old  way.  I  '11 
make  it  hot  for  him  if  he  don't  look  out,  you  see 
if  I  don't." 

Once  back  at  the  Gaiety,  Nance  forgot  all  about 
Birdie  and  her  love  affairs.  Her  own  small  tri 
umph  completely  engrossed  her.  A  morning  paper 
had  mentioned  the  fantastic  dance  of  the  little  bear, 
and  had  given  her  three  lines  all  to  herself.  Reeser 
was  jubilant,  the  director  was  mollified,  and  even  the 


236  CALVARY  ALLEY 

big  comedian  whose  name  blazed  in  letters  of  fire 
outside,  actually  stopped  her  in  the  wings  to  con 
gratulate  her. 

"Look  here,  young  person,"  he  said,  lifting  a 
warning  finger,  "  you  want  to  be  careful  how 
you  steal  my  thunder.  You  '11  be  taking  my  job 
next!" 

Whereupon  Nance  had  the  audacity  to  cross  her 
eyes  and  strike  his  most  famous  pose  before  she 
dodged  under  his  arm  and  scampered  down  the 
stairs. 

It  seemed  incredible  that  the  marvelous  events  of 
the  night  before  could  happen  all  over  again;  but 
they  did.  She  had  only  to  imitate  her  own  per 
formance  to  send  the  audience  into  peals  of  laughter. 
It  would  have  been  more  fun  to  try  new  tricks,  but 
on  this  point  Pulatki  was  adamant. 

"  I  vant  zat  you  do  ze  same  act,  no  more,  no  less, 
see?  "  he  demanded  of  her,  fiercely. 

When  the  encore  came,  and  at  Reeser's  command 
she  snatched  off  her  bear's  head  and  made  her 
funny,  awkward,  little  bow,  she  involuntarily 
glanced  down  at  the  orchestra.  Mr.  Demry  was  not 
there,  but  in  the  parquet  she  encountered  a  pair  of 
importunate  eyes  that  set  her  pulses  bounding. 
They  sought  her  out  in  the  subsequent  chorus  and 
followed  her  every  movement  in  the  grand  march 
that  followed. 

"  Mr.  Mac  's  down  there,"  she  whispered  excitedly 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  FLIGHT      237 

to  Birdie  as  they  passed  in  the  first  figure,  but  Birdie 
tossed  her  head  and  flirted  persistently  with  the  gal 
lery  which  was  quite  unused  to  such  marked  atten 
tion  from  the  principal  show  girl. 

There  was  no  supper  after  the  play  that  night, 
and  it  was  only  after  much  persuasion  on  Mac's 
part,  reinforced  by  the  belated  Monte,  that  Birdie 
was  induced  to  come  out  of  her  sulks  and  go  for  a 
drive  around  the  park. 

"  Me  for  the  front  seat !  "  cried  Nance  hoyden- 
ishly,  and  then,  as  Mac  jumped  in  beside  her  and 
took  the  wheel,  she  saw  her  mistake. 

"  Oh !  I  did  n't  know  — "  she  began,  but  Mac 
caught  her  hand  and  gave  it  a  grateful  squeeze. 

"Confess  you  wanted  to  sit  by  me!"  he  whis 
pered. 

"  But  I  did  n't!  "  she  protested  hotly.  "  I  never 
was  in  a  automobile  before  and  I  just  wanted  to 
see  how  it  worked !  " 

She  almost  persuaded  herself  that  this  was  true 
when  they  reached  the  long  stretch  of  parkway,  and 
Mac  let  her  take  the  wheel.  It  was  only  when  in 
the  course  of  instruction  Mac's  hand  lingered  too 
long  on  hers,  or  his  gay,  careless  face  leaned  too 
close,  that  she  had  her  misgivings. 

"  Say !  this  is  great !  "  she  cried  rapturously,  with 
her  feet  braced  and  her  eyes  on  the  long  road  ahead. 
"  When  it  don't  get  the  hic-cups,  it  beats  a  horse 
all  hollow !  " 


238  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  What  do  you  know  about  horses?  "  teased  Mac, 
giving  unnecessary  assistance  with  the  wheel. 

"  Enough  to  keep  my  hands  off  the  reins  when 
another  fellow's  driving!"  she  said  coolly  —  a  re 
mark  that  moved  Mac  to  boisterous  laughter. 

When  they  were  on  the  homeward  way  and  Mac 
had  taken  the  wheel  again,  they  found  little  to  say 
to  each  other.  Once  he  got  her  to  light  a  cigarette 
for  him,  and  once  or  twice  she  asked  a  question 
about  the  engine.  In  Calvary  Alley  one  talked  or 
one  did  n't  as  the  mood  suggested,  and  Nance  was 
unversed  in  the  fine  art  of  making  conversation.  It 
disturbed  her  not  a  whit  that  she  and  the  hand 
some  youth  beside  her  had  no  common  topic  of  in 
terest.  It  was  quite  enough  for  her  to  sit  there 
beside  him,  keenly  aware  that  his  arm  was  pressing 
hers  and  that  every  time  she  glanced  up  she  found 
him  glancing  down. 

It  was  a  night  of  snow  and  moonshine,  one  of 
those  transitorial  nights  when  winter  is  going  and 
spring  is  coming.  Nance  held  her  breath  as  the  car 
plunged  headlong  into  one  mass  of  black  shadows 
after  another  only  to  emerge  triumphant  into  the 
white  moonlight.  She  loved  the  unexpected  revela 
tions  of  the  headlights,  which  turned  the  dim  road  to 
silver  and  lit  up  the  dark  turf  at  the  wayside.  She 
loved  the  crystal-clear  moon  that  was  sailing  off  and 
away  across  those  dim  fields  of  virgin  snow.  And 
then  she  was  not  thinking  any  longer,  but  feeling  — 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  FLIGHT       239 

feeling  beauty  and  wonder  and  happiness  and  always 
the  blissful  thrill  of  that  arm  pressed  against  her 
own. 

Not  until  they  were  nearing  the  city  did  she  re 
member  the  couple  on  the  back  seat. 

"  Wake  up  there !  "  shouted  Mac,  tossing  his  cap 
over  his  shoulder.  "  Gone  to  sleep  ?  " 

"  I  am  trying  to  induce  Miss  Birdie  to  go  to  the 
carnival  ball  with  me  to-morrow  night,"  said  Monte. 
"  It 's  going  to  be  no  end  of  a  lark." 

"  Take  me,  too,  Birdie,  please !  "  burst  out  Nance 
with  such  childish  vehemence  that  they  all  laughed. 

"What's  the  matter  with  us  all  going?"  cried 
Mac,  instantly  on  fire  at  the  suggestion.  "  Moth 
er's  having  a  dinner  to-morrow  night,  but  I  can  join 
you  after  the  show.  What  do  you  say,  Bird  ?  " 

But  Birdie  was  still  in  the  sulks,  and  it  was  not 
until  Mac  had  changed  places  with  Monte  and 
brought  the  full  battery  of  his  persuasions  to  bear 
upon  her  that  she  agreed  to  the  plan. 

That  night  when  the  girls  were  tucked  comfort 
ably  in  bed  and  the  lights  were  out,  they  discussed 
ways  and  means. 

"  I  'm  going  to  see  if  I  can't  borrow  a  couple  of 
red-bird  costumes  off  Mrs.  Ryan,"  said  Birdie, 
whose  good  humor  seemed  completely  restored. 
"  We  '11  buy  a  couple  of  masks.  I  don't  know  what 
Monte  's  letting  us  in  for,  but  I  '11  try  anything 
once." 


240  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"Will  there  be  dancing,  Birdie?"  asked  Nance, 
her  eyes  shining  in  the  dark. 

"Of  course,  Silly!  Nothing  but.  Say,  what 
was  the  matter  with  you  and  Mac  to-night?  You 
did  n't  seem  to  hit  it  off." 

"  Oh!  we  got  along  pretty  good." 

"  I  never  heard  you  talking  much.  By  the  way, 
he  's  going  to  take  me  to-morrow  night,  and  you  are 
going  with  Monte." 

"  Any  old  way  suits  me!  "  said  Nance,  "  just  so 
I  get  there."  But  she  lay  awake  for  a  time  staring 
into  the  dark,  thinking  things  over. 

"  Does  he  always  call  you  '  Bird  '  ?  "  she  asked 
after  a  long  silence. 

"Who,  Mac?     Yes.     Why?" 

"  Oh !     Nothing,"  said  Nance. 

The  next  day  being  Saturday,  there  were  two  per 
formances,  beside  the  packing  necessary  for  an  early 
departure  on  the  morrow.  But  notwithstanding  the 
full  day  ahead  of  her,  Birdie  spent  the  morning 
in  bed,  languidly  directing  Nance,  who  emptied  the 
wardrobe  and  bureau  drawers  and  sorted  and  folded 
the  soiled  finery.  Toward  noon  she  got  up  and, 
petulantly  declaring  that  the  room  was  suffocating, 
announced  that  she  was  going  out  to  do  some  shop 
ping. 

"  I  '11  come,  too,"  said  Nance,  to  whom  the  pur 
chasing  of  wearing  apparel  was  a  new  and  exciting 
experience. 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  FLIGHT      241 

"  No ;  you  finish  up  here,"  said  Birdie.  "  I  '11  be 
back  soon." 

Nance  went  to  the  window  and  watched  for  her 
to  come  out  in  the  street  below.  She  was  beginning 
to  be  worried  about  Birdie.  What  made  her  so  rest 
less  and  discontented  ?  Why  would  n't  she  go  to 
see  her  mother?  Why  was  she  so  cross  with  Mac 
Clarke  when  he  was  with  her  and  so  miserable  when 
he  was  away  ?  While  she  pondered  it  over,  she  saw 
Birdie  cross  the  street  and  stand  irresolute  for  a 
moment,  before  she  turned  her  back  on  the  shopping 
district  and  hastened  off  to  the  east  where  the  tall 
pipes  of  the  factories  stood  like  exclamation  points 
along  the  sky-line. 

Already  the  noon  whistles  were  blowing,  and  she 
recognized,  above  the  rest,  the  shrill  voice  of 
Clarke's  Bottle  Factory.  How  she  used  to  listen 
for  that  whistle,  especially  on  Saturdays.  Why, 
this  was  Saturday!  In  the  exciting  rush  of  events 
she  had  forgotten  completely  that  Dan  would  be 
waiting  for  her  at  five  o'clock  at  the  foot  of  Cem 
etery  Street.  Never  once  in  the  months  she  had 
been  at  Miss  Bobinet's  had  he  failed  to  be  there  on 
Saturday  afternoon.  If  only  she  could  send  him 
some  word,  make  some  excuse !  But  it  was  not  easy 
to  deceive  Dan,  and  she  knew  he  would  never  rest 
until  he  got  at  the  truth  of  the  matter.  No;  she 
had  better  take  Mrs.  Snawdor's  advice  and  run  no 
risks.  And  yet  that  thought  of  Dan  waiting  pa< 


242  CALVARY  ALLEY 

tiently  at  the  corner  tormented  her  as  she  finished 
the  packing. 

When  the  time  arrived  to  report  at  the  theater, 
Birdie  had  not  returned,  so  Nance  rushed  off  alone 
at  the  last  minute.  It  was  not  until  the  first  chorus 
was  about  to  be  called  that  the  principal  show  girl, 
flushed  and  tired,  flung  herself  into  the  dressing- 
room  and  made  a  lightning  change  in  time  to  take 
her  place  at  the  head  of  the  line. 

There  was  a  rehearsal  between  the  afternoon  and 
evening  performances,  and  the  girls  had  little  time 
for  confidences. 

"  Don't  ask  me  any  questions ! "  said  Birdie 
crossly,  as  she  sat  before  her  dressing-table,  wearily 
washing  off  the  make-up  of  the  afternoon  in  order 
to  put  on  the  make-up  of  the  evening.  "  I  'm  so 
dog  tired  I  'd  lots  rather  be  going  to  bed  than  to  that 
carnival  thing!  " 

"  Don't  you  back  out !  "  warned  Nance,  to  whom 
it  was  ridiculous  that  any  one  should  be  tired  under 
such  exhilarating  circumstances. 

"Oh,  I'll  go,"  said  Birdie,  "if  it's  just  for  the 
sake  of  getting  something  decent  to  eat.  I  'm  sick 
of  dancing  on  crackers  and  ice-water." 

That  night  Nance,  for  the  first  time,  was  recon 
ciled  to  the  final  curtain.  The  weather  was  threat 
ening  and  the  audience  was  small,  but  that  was  not 
what  took  the  keen  edge  off  the  performance.  It 
was  the  absence  in  the  parquet  of  a  certain  pair  of 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  FLIGHT      243 

pursuing  eyes  that-  made  all  the  difference.  More 
over,  the  prospect  of  the  carnival  ball  made  even  the 
footlights  pale  by  comparison. 

The  wardrobe  woman,  after  much  coaxing  and 
bribing,  had  been  induced  to  lend  the  girls  two  of 
the  property  costumes,  and  Nance,  with  the  help  of 
several  giggling  assistants,  was  being  initiated  into 
the  mysteries  of  the  red-bird  costume.  When  she 
had  donned  the  crimson  tights,  and  high-heeled  crim 
son  boots,  and  the  short-spangled  slip  with  its  black 
gauze  wings,  she  gave  a  half -abashed  glance  at  her 
self  in  the  long  mirror. 

"  I  can't  do  it,  Birdie ! "  she  cried,  "  I  feel  like  a 
fool.  You  be  a  red  bird,  and  let  me  be  a  bear !  " 

"  Don't  we  all  do  it  every  night? "  asked  Birdie. 
"  When  we  've  got  on  our  masks,  nobody  '11  know 
us.  We  '11  just  be  a  couple  of  '  Rag-Time  Follies  ' 
taking  a  night  off." 

"  Don't  she  look  cute  with  her  cap  on?  "  cried  one 
of  the  girls.  "  I  'd  give  my  head  to  be  going!  " 

Nance  put  on  a  borrowed  rain-coat  which  was  to 
serve  as  evening  wrap  as  well  and,  with  a  kiss  all 
around  and  many  parting  gibes,  ran  up  the  steps  in 
Birdie's  wake. 

The  court  outside  the  stage  entrance  was  a  bob 
bing  mass  of  umbrellas.  Groups  of  girls,  pulling 
their  wraps  on  as  they  came,  tripped  noisily  down 
the  steps,  greeting  waiting  cavaliers,  or  hurrying  off 
alone  in  various  directions. 


244  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  That 's  Mac's  horn,"  said  Birdie,  "  a  long  toot 
and  two  short  ones.  I  'd  know  it  in  Halifax !  " 

At  the  curbing  the  usual  altercation  arose  between 
Mac  and  Birdie  as  to  how  they  should  sit.  The 
latter  refused  to  sit  on  the  front  seat  for  fear  of 
getting  wet,  and  Mac  refused  to  let  Monte  drive. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  getting  wet !  "  cried  Nance 
with  a  fine  show  of  indifference.  "  That 's  what  a 
rain-coat 's  for." 

When  Mac  had  dexterously  backed  his  machine 
out  of  its  close  quarters,  and  was  threading  his  way 
with  reckless  skill  through  the  crowded  streets,  he 
said  softly,  without  turning  his  head : 

"  I  think  I  rather  like  you,  Nance  Molloy !  " 


CHAPTER  XX 

WILD   OATS 

THE  tenth  annual  carnival  ball,  under  the  aus 
pices  of  a  too-well-known  political  organi 
zation,  was  at  its  midnight  worst.  It  was  one  of 
those  conglomerate  gatherings,  made  up  of  the  loose 
ends  of  the  city  —  ward  politicians,  girls  from  the 
department  stores,  Bohemians  with  an  unsated  thirst 
for  diversion,  reporters,  ostensibly  looking  for  copy, 
women  just  over  the  line  of  respectability,  some 
times  on  one  side,  sometimes  on  the  other,  and  the 
inevitable  sprinkling  of  well-born  youths  who  re 
gard  such  occasions  as  golden  opportunities  for  see 
ing  that  mysterious  phantom  termed  "  life." 

It  was  all  cheap  and  incredibly  tawdry,  from  the 
festoons  of  paper  roses  on  the  walls  to  the  flash  of 
paste  jewels  in  make-believe  crowns.  The  big  hall, 
with  its  stage  flanked  by  gilded  boxes,  was  crowded 
with  a  shifting  throng  of  maskers  in  costumes  of 
flaunting  discord.  Above  the  noisy  laughter  and 
popping  of  corks,  rose  the  blaring  strains  of  a  brass 
band.  Through  the  odor  of  flowers  came  the  strong 
scent  of  musk,  which,  in  turn,  was  routed  by  the 

245 


246  CALVARY  ALLEY 

fumes  of  beer  and  tobacco  which  were  already  mak 
ing  the  air  heavy. 

On  the  edge  of  all  this  stood  Nance  Molloy,  in 
that  magic  hour  of  her  girlhood  when  the  bud  was 
ready  to  burst  into  the  full-blown  blossom.  Her 
slender  figure  on  tiptoe  with  excitement,  her  eyes 
star-like  behind  her  mask,  she  stood  poised,  waiting 
with  all  her  unslaked  thirst  for  pleasure,  to  make 
her  plunge  into  the  gay,  dancing  throng.  She  no 
longer  cared  if  her  skirts  were  short,  and  her  arms 
and  neck  were  bare.  She  no  longer  thought  of  how 
she  looked  or  how  she  acted.  There  was  no  Pulatki 
in  the  wings  to  call  her  down  for  extra  flourishes; 
there  was  no  old  white  face  in  the  orchestra  to  dis 
turb  her  conscience.  Her  chance  for  a  good  time 
had  come  at  last,  and  she  was  rushing  to  meet  it 
with  arms  outstretched. 

"  They  are  getting  ready  for  the  grand  march !  " 
cried  Monte,  who,  with  Mac,  represented  the  "  two 
Dromios."  "  We  separate  at  the  end  of  the  hall, 
and  when  the  columns  line  up  again,  you  dance  with 
your  vis-a-vis." 

"  My  who-tee-who?  "  asked  Nance. 

"  Vis-a-vis  —  fellow  opposite.     Come  ahead !  " 

Down  the  long  hall  swung  the  gay  procession, 
while  the  floor  vibrated  to  the  rhythm  of  the  pranc 
ing  feet.  The  columns  marched  and  counter 
marched  and  fell  into  two  long  lines  facing  each 
other.  The  leader  of  the  orchestra  blew  a  shrill 


WILD  OATS  247 

whistle,  and  Nance,  marking  time  expectantly,  saw 
one  of  the  Dromios  slip  out  of  his  place  and  into 
the  one  facing  her.  The  next  moment  the  columns 
flowed  together,  and  she  found  herself  in  his  arms, 
swinging  in  and  out  of  the  gay  whirling  throng 
with  every  nerve  tingling  response  to  the  summoning 
music. 

Suddenly  a  tender  pressure  made  her  glance  up 
sharply  at  the  white  mask  of  her  companion. 

"  Why  —  why,  I  thought  it  was  Mr.  Monte,"  she 
laughed. 

"Disappointed?"  asked  Mac. 

"  N-no." 

"  Then  why  are  you  stopping?  " 

Nance  could  not  tell  him  that  in  her  world  a 
"  High  Particular  "  was  not  to  be  trifled  with.  In 
her  vigil  of  the  night  before  she  had  made  firm  re 
solve  to  do  the  square  thing  by  Birdie  Smelts. 

"  Where  are  the  others  ?  "  she  asked  in  sudden 
confusion. 

"  In  the  supper  room  probably.  Are  n't  you  go 
ing  to  finish  this  with  me?  " 

"  Not  me.     I  'm  going  to  dance  with  Mr.  Monte." 

"  Has  he  asked  you  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  'm  going  to  ask  him."  And  she  darted 
away,  leaving  Mac  to  follow  at  his  leisure. 

After  supper  propriety,  which  up  to  now  had  held 
slack  rein  on  the  carnival  spirit,  turned  her  loose. 
Masks  were  flung  aside,  hundreds  of  toy  balloons 


248  CALVARY  ALLEY 

were  set  afloat  and  tossed  from  hand  to  hand,  con 
fetti  was  showered  from  the  balcony,  boisterous 
song  and  laughter  mingled  with  the  music.  The 
floor  resembled  some  gigantic  kaleidoscope,  one  gay 
pattern  following  another  in  rapid  succession.  And 
in  every  group  the  most  vivid  note  was  struck  by 
a  flashing  red  bird.  Even  had  word  not  gone 
abroad  that  the  girls  in  crimson  and  black  were  from 
the  "  Rag  Time  Follies,"  Birdie's  conspicuous 
charms  would  have  created  instant  comment  and  a 
host  of  admirers. 

Nance,  with  characteristic  independence,  soon 
swung  out  of  Birdie's  orbit  and  made  friends  for 
herself.  For  her  it  was  a  night  of  delirium,  and 
her  pulses  hammered  in  rhythm  to  the  throbbing 
music.  In  one  day  life  had  caught  her  up  out  of 
an  abyss  of  gloom  and  swung  her  to  a  dizzy  pinnacle 
of  delight,  where  she  poised  in  exquisite  ecstasy, 
fearing  that  the  next  turn  of  the  wheel  might  carry 
her  down  again.  Laughter  had  softened  her  lips 
and  hung  mischievous  lights  in  her  eyes;  happiness 
had  set  her  nerves  tingling  and  set  roses  blooming 
in  cheeks  and  lips.  The  smoldering  fires  of  self- 
expression,  smothered  so  long,  burst  into  riotous 
flame.  With  utter  abandonment  she  flung  herself 
into  the  merriment  of  the  moment,  romping  through 
the  dances  with  any  one  who  asked  her,  slapping  the 
face  of  an  elderly  knight  who  went  too  far  in  his 


WILD  OATS  249 

gallantries,  dancing  a  hornpipe  with  a  fat  clown  to 
the  accompaniment  of  a  hundred  clapping  hands. 
Up  and  down  the  crowded  hall  she  raced,  a  hoyden- 
ish  little  torn-boy,  drunk  with  youth,  with  freedom, 
and  with  the  pent-up  vitality  of  years. 

Close  after  her,  snatching  her  away  from  the 
other  dancers  only  to  have  her  snatched  away  from 
him  in  turn,  was  Mac  Clarke,  equally  flushed  and 
excited,  refusing  to  listen  to  Monte's  insistent  re 
minder  that  a  storm  was  brewing  and  they  ought 
to  go  home. 

"  Hang  the  storm !  "  cried  Mac  gaily.  "  I  'm  in 
for  it  with  the  governor,  anyhow.  Let 's  make  a 
night  of  it!" 

At  the  end  of  a  dance  even  wilder  than  the  rest, 
Nance  found  herself  with  Mac  at  the  entrance  to 
one  of  the  boxes  that  flanked  the  stage. 

"  I  've  got  you  now ! "  he  panted,  catching  her 
wrists  and  pulling  her  within  the  curtained  recess. 
"  You  've  got  to  tell  me  why  you  've  been  running 
away  from  me  all  evening." 

"  I  have  n't,"  said  Nance,  laughing  and  struggling 
to  free  her  hands. 

"  You  have,  too !  You  Ve  given  me  the  slip  a 
dozen  times.  Don't  you  know  I  'm  crazy  about 
you?" 

"  Much  you  are !  "  scoffed  Nance.  "  Go  tell  that 
to  Birdie." 


250  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  I  '11  tell  it  to  Birdie  and  every  one  else  if  you 
like,"  Mac  cried.  "  It  was  all  up  with  me  the  first 
time  I  saw  you." 

With  his  handsome,  boyish  face  and  his  frilled 
shirt,  he  looked  so  absurdly  like  the  choir  boy,  who 
had  once  sat  on  the  fence  flinging  rocks  at  her,  that 
she  threw  back  her  head  and  laughed. 

"  You  don't  even  know  the  first  time  you  saw 
me,"  she  challenged  him. 

"  Well,  I  know  I  've  seen  you  somewhere  before. 
Tell  me  where?  " 

"  Guess !  "  said  Nance,  with  dancing  eyes. 

"  Wait !  I  know !  It  was  on  the  street  one 
night.  You  were  standing  in  a  drug  store.  A  red 
light  was  shining  on  you,  and  you  smiled  at  me." 

"  I  smiled  at  you  because  I  knew  you.  I  'd  seen 
you  before  that.  Once  when  you  didn't  want  me 
to.  In  the  factory  yard  —  behind  the  gas-pipe  — 

"  Were  you  the  little  girl  that  caught  me  kissing 
Bird  that  day?" 

"Yes!  But  there  was  another  time  even  before 
that." 

He  searched  her  face  quizzically,  still  holding  her 
wrists. 

Nance,  no  longer  trying  to  free  her  hands, 
hummed  teasingly,  half  under  her  breath: 

"  Do  ye  think  the  likes  of  ye 
Could  learn  to  like  the  likes  o'  me? 
Arrah,  come  in,  Barney  McKane,  out  of  the  rain !  " 


WILD  OATS  251 

A  puzzled  look  swept  his  face;  then  he  cried  ex 
ultantly  : 

"  I  've  got  it.  It  was  you  who  let  my  pigeons  go ! 
You  little  devil !  I  'm  going  to  pay  you  back  for 
that! "  and  before  she  knew  it,  he  had  got  both  of 
her  hands  into  one  of  his  and  had  caught  her  to  him, 
and  was  kissing  her  there  in  the  shadow  of  the  cur 
tain,  kissing  her  gay,  defiant  eyes  and  her  half- 
childish  lips. 

And  Nance,  the  independent,  scoffing,  high-headed 
Nance,  who  up  to  this  time  had  waged  successful 
warfare,  offensive  as  well  as  defensive,  against  the 
invading  masculine,  forgot  for  one  transcendent 
second  everything  in  the  world  except  the  touch  of 
those  ardent  lips  on  hers  and  the  warm  clasp  of 
the  arm  about  her  yielding  shoulders. 

In  the  next  instant  she  sprang  away  from  him, 
and  in  dire  confusion  fled  out  of  the  box  and  down 
the  corridor. 

At  the  door  leading  back  into  the  ball-room  a 
group  of  dancers  had  gathered  and  were  exchanging 
humorous  remarks  about  a  woman  who  was  being 
borne,  feet  foremost,  into  the  corridor  by  two  men 
in  costume. 

Nance,  craning  her  neck  to  see,  caught  a  glimpse 
of  a  white  face  with  a  sagging  mouth,  and  staring 
eyes  under  a  profusion  of  tumbled  red  hair.  With 
a  gasp  of  recognition  she  pushed  forward  and  im 
pulsively  seized  one  of  the  woman's  limp  hands. 


252  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"Gert!"  she  cried,  "what's  the  matter?  Are 
you  hurt  ?  " 

The  monk  gave  a  significant  wink  at  Mac,  who 
had  joined  them,  and  the  by-standers  laughed. 

"  She 's  drunk !  "  said  Mac,  abruptly,  pulling 
Nance  away.  "  Where  did  you  ever  know  that 
woman?  " 

"  Why,  it 's  Gert,  you  know,  at  the  factory !  She 
worked  at  the  bench  next  to  mine !  " 

Her  eyes  followed  the  departing  group  somberly, 
and  she  lingered  despite  Mac's  persuasion. 

Poor  Gert !  Was  this  what  she  meant  by  a  good 
time?  To  be  limp  and  silly  like  that,  with  her  dress 
slipping  off  her  shoulder  and  people  staring  at  her 
and  laughing  at  her? 

"  I  don't  want  to  dance ! "  she  said  impatiently, 
shaking  off  Mac's  hand. 

The  steaming  hall,  reeking  with  tobacco  smoke 
and  stale  beer,  the  men  and  women  with  painted 
faces  and  blackened  eyes  leering  and  languishing  at 
each  other,  the  snatches  of  suggestive  song  and  jest, 
filled  her  with  sudden  disgust. 

"  I  'm  going  home,"  she  announced  with  determi 
nation. 

"  But,  Nance!  "  pleaded  Mac,  "  you  can't  go  until 
we  Ve  had  our  dance." 

But  for  Nance  the  spell  was  broken,  and  her  one 
idea  was  to  get  away.  When  she  found  Birdie  she 
became  more  insistent  than  ever. 


WILD  OATS  253 

"Why  not  see  it  out?"  urged  Mac.  "I  don't 
want  to  go  home/* 

"  You  are  as  hoarse  as  a  frog  now,"  said  Monte. 

"  Glad  of  it !  Let's  me  out  of  singing  in  the  choir 
to-morrow  —  I  mean  to-day !  Who  wants  another 
drink?" 

Birdie  did,  and  another  ten  minutes  was  lost  while 
they  went  around  to  the  refreshment  room. 

The  storm  was  at  its  height  when  at  four  o'clock 
they  started  on  that  mad  drive  home.  The  shriek 
ing  wind,  the  wet,  slippery  streets,  the  lightning 
flashing  against  the  blurred  wind-shield,  the  crashes 
of  thunder  that  drowned  all  other  sounds,  were  suf 
ficient  to  try  the  nerves  of  the  steadiest  driver.  But 
Mac  sped  his  car  through  it  with  reckless  disregard, 
singing,  despite  his  hoarseness,  with  Birdie  and 
Monte,  and  shouting  laughing  defiance  as  the  light 
ning  played. 

Nance  sat  very  straight  beside  him  with  her  eyes 
on  the  road  ahead.  She  hated  Birdie  for  having 
taken  enough  wine  to  make  her  silly  like  that;  she 
hated  the  boys  for  laughing  at  her.  She  saw  noth 
ing  funny  in  the  fact  that  somebody  had  lost  the 
latch-key  and  that  they  could  only  get  in  by  raising 
the  landlady,  who  was  sharp  of  tongue  and  free 
with  her  comments. 

*'  You  girls  better  come  on  over  to  my  rooms," 
urged  Monte.  "  We  '11  cook  your  breakfast  on  the 
chafing-dish,  won't  we,  Mac?  " 


254  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  Me  for  the  couch !  "  said  Birdie.  "  I  'm  cross 
eyed,  I  'm  so  sleepy." 

"  I  'm  not  going,"  said  Nance,  shortly. 

"  Don't  be  a  short-sport,  Nance,"  urged  Birdie, 
peevishly.  "  It 's  as  good  as  morning  now.  We 
can  loaf  around  Monte's  for  a  couple  of  hours  and 
then  go  over  to  my  room  and  change  our  clothes  in 
time  to  get  to  the  station  by  seven.  Less  time  we 
have  to  answer  questions,  better  it  '11  be  for  us." 

"I  tell  you  I  ain't  going!"  protested  Nance, 
hotly. 

"Yes,  you  are!"  whispered  Mac  softly.  "You 
are  going  to  be  a  good  little  girl  and  do  whatever  I 
want  you  to." 

Nance  grew  strangely  silent  under  his  compelling 
look,  and  under  the  touch  of  his  hand  as  it  sought 
hers  in  the  darkness.  Why  was  n't  she  angry  with 
Mr.  Mac  as  she  was  with  the  others?  Why  did  she 
want  so  much  to  do  whatever  he  asked  her  to? 
After  all  perhaps  there  was  no  harm  in  going  to 
Mr.  Monte's  for  a  little  while,  perhaps  — 

She  drew  in  her  breath  suddenly  and  shivered. 
For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  was  afraid,  not  of 
the  storm,  or  the  consequences  of  her  escapade,  but 
of  herself.  She  was  afraid  of  the  quick,  sweet 
shiver  that  ran  over  her  whenever  Mac  touched  her, 
of  the  strange  weakness  that  came  over  her  even 
now,  as  his  hands  claimed  hers. 

"  Say,  I  'm  going  to  get  out,"  she  said  suddenly. 


WILD  OATS  255 

"  Stop  the  car !  Don't  you  hear  me  ?  I  want  to 
get  out ! " 

"  Nonsense !  "  said  Mac,  "  you  don't  even  know 
where  you  are!  You  are  coming  with  us  to 
Monte's ;  that 's  what  you  are  going  to  do." 

But  Nance  knew  more  than  he  thought.  In  the 
last  flash  of  lightning  she  had  seen,  back  of  them 
on  the  left,  startlingly  white  for  the  second  against 
the  blackness,  the  spire  of  Calvary  Cathedral.  She 
knew  that  they  were  rapidly  approaching  the  rail 
road  crossing  where  Uncle  Jed's  signal  tower  stood, 
beyond  which  lay  a  region  totally  unfamiliar  to  her. 

She  waited  tensely  until  Mac  had  sped  the  car 
across  the  gleaming  tracks,  just  escaping  the  de 
scending  gates.  Then  she  bent  forward  and  seized 
the  emergency  brake.  The  car  came  to  a  halt  with 
a  terrific  jerk,  plunging  them  all  forward,  and  under 
cover  of  the  confusion  Nance  leapt  out  and,  dart 
ing  under  the  lowered  gate,  dashed  across  the  tracks. 
The  next  moment  a  long  freight  train  passed  be 
tween  her  and  the  automobile,  and  when  it  was  done 
with  its  noisy  shunting  backward  and  forward,  and 
had  gone  ahead,  the  street  was  empty. 

Watching  her  chance  between  the  lightning 
flashes,  she  darted  from  cover  to  cover.  Once  be 
yond  the  signal  tower  she  would  be  safe  from  Uncle 
Jed's  righteous  eye,  and  able  to  dash  down  a  short 
cut  she  knew  that  led  into  the  street  back  of  the 
warehouse  and  thence  into  Calvary  Alley.  If  she 


256  CALVARY  ALLEY 

could  get  to  her  old  room  for  the  next  two  hours, 
she  could  change  her  clothes  and  be  off  again  before 
any  one  knew  of  her  night's  adventure. 

Just  as  she  reached  the  corner,  a  flash  more  blind 
ing  than  the  rest  ripped  the  heavens.  A  line  of  fire 
raced  toward  her  along  the  steel  rails,  then  leapt  in 
a  ball  to  the  big  bell  at  the  top  of  the  signal  tower. 
There  was  a  deafening  crash;  all  the  electric  lights 
went  out,  and  Nance  found  herself  cowering  against 
the  fence,  apparently  the  one  living  object  in  that 
wild,  wet,  storm-racked  night. 

The  only  lights  to  be  seen  were  the  small  red 
lamps  suspended  on  the  slanting  gates.  Nance 
waited  for  them  to  lower  when  the  freight  train  that 
had  backed  into  the  yards  five  minutes  before, 
rushed  out  again.  But  the  lamps  did  not  move. 

She  crept  back  across  the  tracks,  watching  with 
fascinated  horror  the  dark  windows  of  the  signal 
tower.  Why  didn't  Uncle  Jed  light  his  lantern? 
Why  had  n't  he  lowered  the  gates  ?  All  her  fear  of 
discovery  was  suddenly  swallowed  up  in  a  greater 
fear. 

At  the  foot  of  the  crude  wooden  stairway  she  no 
longer  hesitated. 

"  Uncle  Jed ! "  she  shouted  against  the  wind, 
"  Uncle  Jed,  are  you  there?  " 

There  was  no  answer. 

She  climbed  the  steep  steps  and  tried  the  door, 
which  yielded  grudgingly  to  her  pressure.  It  was 


WILD  OATS  257 

only  when  she  put  her  shoulder  to  it  and  pushed 
with  all  her  strength  that  she  made  an  opening 
wide  enough  to  squeeze  through.  There  on  the 
floor,  lying  just  as  he  had  fallen,  was  the  old  gate- 
tender,  his  unseeing  eyes  staring  up  into  the  semi- 
darkness. 

Nance  looked  at  him  in  terror,  then  at  the  signal 
board  and  the  levers  that  controlled  the  gates.  A 
terrible  trembling  seized  her,  and  she  covered  her 
eyes  with  her  hands. 

"God  tell  me  quick,  what  must  I  do?"  she  de 
manded,  and  the  next  instant,  as  if  in  answer  to  her 
prayer,  she  heard  herself  gasp,  "  Dan!  "  as  she  fum 
bled  wildly  for  the  telephone. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

DAN 

THE  shrill  whistle  that  at  noon  had  obtruded 
its  discord  into  Nance  Molloy's  thoughts  had 
a  very  different  effect  on  Dan  Lewis,  washing  his 
hands  under  the  hydrant  in  the  factory  yard.  He 
had  not  forgotten  that  it  was  Saturday.  Neither 
had  Growler,  who  stood  watching  him  with  an 
oblique  look  in  his  old  eye  that  said  as  plain  as  words 
that  he  knew  what  momentous  business  was  brewing 
at  five  o'clock. 

It  was  not  only  Saturday  for  Dan,  but  the  most 
important  Saturday  that  ever  figured  on  the  cal 
endar.  In  his  heroic  efforts  to  conform  to  Mrs. 
Purdy's  standard  of  perfection  he  had  studied  the 
advice  to  young  men  in  the  "  Sunday  Echo." 
There  he  learned  that  no  gentleman  would  think  of 
mentioning  love  to  a  young  lady  until  he  \vas  in  a 
position  to  marry  her.  To-day's  pay  envelope 
would  hold  the  exact  amount  to  bring  his  bank  ac 
count  up  to  the  three  imposing  figures  that  he  had 
decided  on  as  the  minimum  sum  to  be  put  away. 

As  he  was  drying  his  hands  on  his  handkerchief 
258 


DAN  259 

and  whistling  softly  under  his  breath,  he  was  sum 
moned  to  the  office. 

For  the  past  year  he  had  been  a  self-constituted 
buffer  between  Mr.  Clarke  and  the  men  in  the 
furnace-room,  and  he  wondered  anxiously  what  new 
complication  had  arisen. 

"  He  's  got  an  awful  grouch  on,"  warned  the 
stenographer  as  Dan  passed  through  the  outer  office. 

Mr.  Clarke  was  sitting  at  his  desk,  tapping  his 
foot  impatiently. 

"  Well,  Lewis,"  he  said,  "  you  've  taken  your 
time!  Sit  down.  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

Dan  dropped  into  the  chair  opposite  and  waited. 

"  Is  it  true  that  you  have  been  doing  most  of  the 
new  foreman's  work  for  the  past  month?  " 

"  Well,  I  've  helped  him  some.  You  see,  being 
here  so  long,  I  know  the  ropes  a  bit  better  than  he 
does." 

"  That 's  not  the  point.  I  ought  to  have  known 
sooner  that  he  could  not  handle  the  job.  I  fired 
him  this  morning,  and  we  've  got  to  make  some 
temporary  arrangement  until  a  new  man  is  in 
stalled." 

Dan's  face  grew  grave. 

"  We  can  manage  everything  but  the  finishing 
room.  Some  of  the  girls  have  been  threatening  to 
quit." 

"  What 's  the  grievance  now?  " 

"  Same    thing  —  ventilation.     Two    more    girls 


2<5o  CALVARY  ALLEY 

fainted  there  this  morning.  The  air  is  something 
terrible." 

"  What  do  they  think  I  am  running?  "  demanded 
Mr.  Clarke,  angrily,  "a  health  resort?" 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Dan,  "  a  death  trap." 

Mr.  Clarke  set  his  jaw  and  glared  at  Dan,  but 
he  said  nothing.  The  doctor's  recent  verdict  on 
the  death  of  a  certain  one-eyed  girl,  named  Mag 
Gist,  may  have  had  something  to  do  with  his  silence. 

"How  many  girls  are  in  that  room  now?"  he 
asked  after  a  long  pause. 

Dan  gave  the  number,  together  with  several  other 
disturbing  facts  concerning  the  sanitary  arrange 
ments. 

"Well,  what's  to  be  done?"  demanded  Mr. 
Clarke,  fiercely.  "  We  can't  get  out  the  work  with 
fewer  girls,  and  there  is  no  way  of  enlarging  that 
room." 

"  Yes,  sir,  there  is,"  said  Dan.  "  Would  you 
mind  me  showing  you  a  way?" 

"  Since  you  are  so  full  of  advice,  go  ahead." 

With  crude,  but  sure,  pencil  strokes,  Dan  got  his 
ideas  on  paper.  He  had  done  it  so  often  for  his 
own  satisfaction  that  he  could  have  made  them  with 
his  eyes  shut.  Ever  since  those  early  days  when 
he  had  seen  that  room  through  Nance  Molloy's 
eyes,  he  had  persisted  in  his  efforts  to  better  it. 

Mr.  Clarke,  with  his  fingers  thrust  through  his 
scanty  hair,  watched  him  scornfully. 


DAN  261 

"  Absolutely  impractical,"  he  declared.  "  The 
only  feasible  plan  would  be  to  take  out  the  north 
partition  and  build  an  extension  like  this." 

"  That  could  n't  be  done,"  said  Dan,  "  on  account 
of  the  projection." 

Whereupon,  such  is  the  power  of  opposition, 
Mr.  Clarke  set  himself  to  prove  that  it  could.  For 
over  an  hour  they  wrangled,  going  into  the  ques 
tions  of  cost,  of  time,  of  heating,  of  ventilation, 
scarcely  looking  up  from  the  plans  until  a  figure  in 
a  checked  suit  flung  open  the  door,  letting  in  a 
draught  of  air  that  scattered  the  papers  on  the 
desk. 

"  Hello,  Dad,"  said  the  new-comer,  with  a  friendly 
nod  to  Dan,  "  I  'm  sorry  to  disturb  you,  but  I  only 
have  a  minute." 

''  Which  I  should  accept  gratefully,  I  suppose,  as 
my  share  of  your  busy  day  ?  "  Mr.  Clarke  tried 
to  look  severe,  but  his  eyes  softened. 

"  Well,  I  just  got  up,"  said  Mac,  with  an  in 
gratiating  smile,  as  he  smoothed  back  his  rhining 
hair  before  the  mirror  in  the  hat-rack. 

"  Running  all  night,  and  sleeping  half  the  day !  " 
grumbled  Mr.  Clarke.  "  By  the  way,  what  time 
did  you  get  in  last  night?  " 

Mac  made  a  wry  face. 

"Et  tu,  Brute?"  he  cried  gaily.  "  Mother 's 
polished  me  off  on  that  score.  I  have  not  come  here 
to  discuss  the  waywardness  of  your  prodigal  son, 


262  CALVARY  ALLEY 

Mr.  Clarke,  I  have  come  to  talk  high  finance.  I 
desire  to  negotiate  a  loan." 

"  As  usual,"  growled  his  father.  "  I  venture  to 
say  that  Dan  Lewis  here,  who  earns  about  half 
what  you  waste  a  year,  has  something  put  away." 

"  But  Dan 's  the  original  grinder.  He  always 
had  an  eye  for  business.  Used  to  win  my  nickel 
every  Sunday  when  we  shot  craps  in  the  alley  back 
of  the  cathedral.  Say,  Dan,  I  see  you  've  still  got 
that  handsome  thoroughbred  cur  of  yours!  By 
George,  that  dog  could  use  his  tail  for  a  jumping 
rope!  " 

Dan  smiled ;  he  could  n't  afford  to  be  sensitive 
about  Growler's  beauty. 

"  Is  that  all,  Mr.  Clarke?  "  he  asked  of  his  em 
ployer. 

"  Yes.  I  '11  see  what  can  be  done  with  these 
plans.  In  the  meanwhile  you  try  to  keep  the  girls 
satisfied  until  the  new  foreman  comes.  By  the  way 
I  expect  you  'd  better  stay  on  here  to-night." 

Dan  paused  with  his  hand  on  the  door-knob. 
"  Yes,  sir,"  he  said  in  evident  embarrassment,  "  but 
if  you  don't  mind  —  I  'd  like  to  get  off  for  a  couple 
of  hours  this  afternoon." 

"Who's  the  girl,  Dan?"  asked  Mac,  but  Dan 
did  not  stop  to  answer. 

As  he  hurried  down  the  hall,  a  boy  appeared 
from  around  the  corner  and  beckoned  to  him  with 
a  mysterious  grin. 


DAN  263 

"  Somebody  's  waiting  for  you  down  in  the  yard." 

"Who  is  he?" 

"  'T  ain't  a  he.  It 's  the  prettiest  girl  you  ever 
seen !  " 

Dan,  whose  thoughts  for  weeks  had  been  com 
pletely  rilled  with  one  feminine  image,  sprang  to 
the  window.  But  the  tall,  stylish  person  enveloped 
in  a  white  veil,  who  was  waiting  below,  in  no  remote 
way  suggested  Nance  Molloy. 

A  call  from  a  lady  was  a  new  experience,  and  a 
lively  curiosity  seized  him  as  he  descended  the  steps, 
turning  down  his  shirt  sleeves  as  he  went.  As  he 
stepped  into  the  yard,  the  girl  turned  toward  him 
with  a  quick,  nervous  movement. 

"Hello,  Daniel!"  she  said,  her  full  red  lips 
curving  into  a  smile.  "  Don't  remember  me,  do 
you?" 

"  Sure,  I  do.     It 's  Birdie  Smelts." 

"  Good  boy !  Only  now  it 's  Birdie  La  Rue. 
That 's  my  stage  name,  you  know.  I  blew  into 
town  Thursday  with  '  The  Rag  Time  Follies.'  Say, 
Dan,  you  used  to  be  a  good  friend  of  mine,  did  n't 
you?" 

Dan  had  no  recollection  of  ever  having  been 
noticed  by  Birdie,  except  on  that  one  occasion  when 
he  had  taken  her  and  Nance  to  the  skating-rink. 
She  was  older  than  he  by  a  couple  of  years,  and 
infinitely  wiser  in  the  ways  of  the  world.  But  it 
was  beyond  masculine  human  nature  not  to  be  flat- 


264  CALVARY  ALLEY 

tered  by  her  manner,  and  he  hastened  to  assure 
her  that  he  had  been  and  was  her  friend. 

"  Well,  I  wonder  if  you  don't  want  to  do  me  a 
favor?"  she  coaxed.  "Find  out  if  Mac  Clarke's 
been  here,  or  is  going  to  be  here.  I  got  to  see  him 
on  particular  business." 

"  He  's  up  in  the  office  now,"  said  Dan ;  then  he 
added  bluntly  "  Where  did  you  ever  know  Mac 
Clarke?" 

Birdie's  large,  white  lids  fluttered  a  moment. 

'  I  come  to  see  him  for  a  friend  of  mine,"  she 
said. 

A  silence  fell  between  them  which  she  tried  to 
break  with  a  rather  shamefaced  explanation. 

"  This  girl  and  Mac  have  had  a  quarrel.  I  'm 
trying  to  patch  it  up.  Wish  you  'd  get  him  down 
here  a  minute." 

"  It  would  be  a  lot  better  for  the  girl,"  said  Dan, 
slowly,  "  if  you  did  n't  patch  it  up." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

Dan  looked  troubled. 

"  Clarke  's  a  nice  fellow  all  right,"  he  said,  "  but 
when  it  comes  to  girls  — "  he  broke  off  abruptly. 
"  Do  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  I  've  seen  him  round  the  theater,"  she  said. 

"  Then  you  ought  to  know  what  I  mean." 

Birdie  looked  absently  across  the  barren  yard. 

"  Men  are  all  rotten,"  she  said  bitterly,  then  added 
with  feminine  inconsistency,  "  Go  on,  Dan,  be  a 


DAN  265 

darling.  Fix  it  so  I  can  speak  to  him  without  the 
old  man  catching  on." 

Strategic  manceuvers  were  not  in  Dan's  line,  and 
he  might  have  refused  outright  had  not  Birdie  laid 
a  white  hand  on  his  and  lifted  a  pair  of  effectively 
pleading  eyes.  Being  unused  to  feminine  blandish 
ments,  he  succumbed. 

Half  an  hour  later  a  white  veil  fluttered  intimately 
across  a  broad,  checked  shoulder  as  two  stealthy 
young  people  slipped  under  the  window  of  Mr. 
Clarke's  private  office  and  made  their  way  to  the 
street. 

Dan  gave  the  incident  little  further  thought.  He 
went  mechanically  about  his  work,  only  pausing 
occasionally  at  his  high  desk  behind  the  door  to 
pore  over  a  sheet  of  paper.  Had  his  employer 
glanced  casually  over  his  shoulder,  he  might  have 
thought  he  was  still  figuring  on  the  plans  of  the 
new  finishing  room;  but  a  second  glance  would 
have  puzzled  him.  Instead  of  one  large  room  there 
were  several  small  ones,  and  across  the  front  was 
a  porch  with  wriggly  lines  on  a  trellis,  minutely 
labeled,  "  honeysuckle." 

At  a  quarter  of  five  Dan  made  as  elaborate  a 
toilet  as  the  washroom  permitted.  He  consumed 
both  time  and  soap  on  the  fractious  forelock,  and 
spent  precious  moments  trying  to  induce  a  limp 
string  tie  to  assume  the  same  correct  set  that  dis 
tinguished  Mac  Clarke's  four-in-hand. 


266  CALVARY  ALLEY 

Once  on  his  way,  with  Growler  at  his  heels,  he 
gave  no  more  thought  to  his  looks.  He  walked  very 
straight,  his  lips  twitching  now  and  then  into  a 
smile,  and  his  gaze  soaring  over  the  heads  of  the 
ordinary  people  whom  he  passed.  For  twenty-one 
years  the  book  of  life  had  proved  grim  reading,  but 
to-day  he  had  come  to  that  magic  page  whereon 
is  written  in  words  grown  dim  to  the  eyes  of  age 
and  experience,  but  perennially  shining  to  the  eyes 
of  youth :  "  And  then  they  were  married  and  lived 
happily  ever  after." 

"  Take  care  there!  Look  where  you  are  going!  " 
exclaimed  an  indignant  pedestrian  as  he  turned  the 
corner  into  Cemetery  Street. 

"  Why,  hello,  Bean !  "  he  said  in  surprise,  bring 
ing  his  gaze  down  to  a  stout  man  on  crutches. 
"  Glad  to  see  you  out  again !  " 

"  I  ain't  out,"  said  the  ex-foreman.  "  I  'm  all 
in.  I  've  got  rheumatism  in  every  corner  of  me. 
This  is  what  your  old  bottle  factory  did  for  me." 

"  Tough  luck,"  said  Dan  sympathetically,  with 
what  attention  he  could  spare  from  a  certain  door 
way  half  up  the  square.  "  First  time  you  've  been 
out?" 

"  No;  I  've  been  to  the  park  once  or  twice.  Last 
night  I  went  to  a  show."  He  was  about  to  limp 
on  when  he  paused.  "  By  the  way,  Lewis,  I  saw 
an  old  friend  of  yours  there.  You  remember  that 
Molloy  girl  you  used  to  run  with  up  at  the  factory?  " 


DAN  267 

Dan's  mouth  closed  sharply.  Bean's  attitude 
toward  the  factory  girls  was  an  old  grievance  with 
him  and  had  caused  words  between  them  on  more 
than  one  occasion. 

"  Well,  I  '11  be  hanged,"  went  on  Bean,  undaunted, 
"  if  she  ain't  doing  a  turn  up  at  the  Gaiety!  She  's 
a  little  corker  all  right,  had  the  whole  house  going." 

"  You  got  another  guess  coming  your  way,"  said 
Dan,  coldly,  "  the  young  lady  you  're  talking  about 's 
not  on  the  stage.  She  's  working  up  here  in  Cem 
etery  Street.  I  happen  to  be  waiting  for  her  now." 

Bean  whistled. 

"  Well,  the  drinks  are  on  me.  That  girl  at  the 
Gaiety  is  a  dead  ringer  to  her.  Same  classy  way 
of  handling  herself,  same — "  Something  in  Dan's 
eyes  made  him  stop.  "  I  got  to  be  going,"  he  said. 
"  So  long." 

Dan  waited  patiently  for  ten  minutes;  then  he 
looked  at  his  watch.  What  could  be  keeping 
Nance  ?  He  whistled  to  Growler,  who  was  making- 
life  miserable  for  a  cat  in  a  neighboring  yard,  and 
strolled  past  Miss  Bobinet's  door;  then  he  returned 
to  the  corner.  Bean's  words  had  fallen  into  his 
dream  like  a  pebble  into  a  tranquil  pool.  What 
business  had  Bean  to  be  remembering  the  way  Nance 
walked  or  talked.  Restlessly,  Dan  paced  up  and 
down  the  narrow  sidewalk.  When  he  looked  at  his 
watch  again,  it  was  five-thirty. 

Only  thirty  more  minutes  in  which  to  transact 


268  CALVARY  ALLEY 

the  most  important  business  of  his  life!  With  a 
gesture  of  impatience  he  strode  up  to  Miss  Bobinet's 
door  and  rang  the  bell. 

A  wrinkled  old  woman,  with  one  hand  behind  her 
ear,  opened  the  door  grudgingly. 

"  Nance  Molloy?  "  she  quavered  in  answer  to  his 
query.  "What  you  want  with  her?" 

"  I  'd  like  to  speak  with  her  a  minute,"  said  Dan. 

"  Are  you  her  brother?  " 

"  No." 

"  Insurance  man?  " 

"  No." 

The  old  woman  peered  at  him  curiously. 

"  Who  be  you?  "  she  asked. 

"  My  name  's  Lewis." 

"Morris?" 

"  No,  Lewis !  "  shouted  Dan,  with  a  restraining 
hand  on  Growler,  who  was  sniffing  at  the  strange 
musty  odors  that  issued  from  the  half-open  door. 

"  Well,  she  ain't  here,"  said  the  old  woman. 
"  Took  herself  off  last  Wednesday,  without  a  word 
to  anybody." 

"  Last  Wednesday !  "  said  Dan,  incredulously. 
"  Did  n't  she  send  any  word  ?  " 

"  Sent  for  her  money  and  said  she  would  n't  be 
back.  You  dog,  you!  "  This  to  Growler  who  had 
insinuated  his  head  inside  the  door  with  the  fixed 
determination  to  run  down  that  queer  smell  if  pos 
sible. 


DAN  269 

Dan  went  slowly  down  the  steps,  and  Growler, 
either  offended  at  having  had  the  door  slammed 
in  his  face,  or  else  sensing,  dog-fashion,  the  sudden 
change  in  his  master's  mood,  trotted  soberly  at  his 
heels.  There  was  no  time  now  to  go  to  Calvary 
Alley  to  find  out  what  the  trouble  was.  Nothing 
to  do  but  go  back  to  the  factory  and  worry  through 
the  night,  with  all  sorts  of  disturbing  thoughts 
swarming  in  his  brain.  Nance  had  been  all  right 
the  Saturday  before,  a  little  restless  and  discontented 
perhaps,  but  scarcely  more  so  than  usual.  He  re 
membered  how  he  had  counseled  patience,  and  how 
hard  it  had  been  for  him  to  keep  from  telling  her 
then  and  there  what  \vas  in  his  heart.  He  began 
to  wonder  uneasily  if  he  had  done  right  in  keeping 
all  his  plans  and  dreams  to  himself.  Perhaps  if 
he  had  taken  her  into  his  confidence  and  told  her 
what  he  was  striving  and  saving  for,  she  would  have 
understood  better  and  been  happy  in  waiting  and 
working  with  him.  For  the  first  time  he  began 
to  entertain  dark  doubts  concerning  those  col 
umns  of  advice  to  young  men  in  the  "  Sunday 
Echo." 

Once  back  at  the  factory,  he  plunged  into  his 
work  with  characteristic  thoroughness.  It  was 
strangely  hot  and  still,  and  somewhere  out  on  the 
horizon  was  a  grumbling  discontent.  It  was  rain 
ing  hard  at  eleven  o'clock  when  he  boarded  a  car 
for  Butternut  Lane,  and  by  the  time  he  reached 


270  CALVARY  ALLEY 

the  Purdy's  corner,  the  lightning  was  playing  sharply 
in  the  northwest. 

He  let  himself  in  the  empty  house  and  felt  his 
way  up  to  his  room,  but  he  did  not  go  to  bed. 
Instead,  he  sat  at  his  table  and  with  stiff  awkward 
ringers  wrote  letter  after  letter,  each  of  which  he 
tossed  impatiently  into  the  waste-basket.  They 
were  all  to  Nance,  and  they  all  tried  in  vain  to 
express  the  pent-up  emotion  that  had  filled  his  heart 
for  years.  Somewhere  down-stairs  a  clock  struck 
one,  but  he  kept  doggedly  at  his  task.  Four  o'clock- 
found  him  still  seated  at  the  table,  but  his  tired  head 
had  dropped  on  his  folded  arms,  and  he  slept. 

Outside  the  wind  rose  higher  and  higher,  and 
the  lightning  split  the  heavens  in  blinding  flashes. 
Suddenly  a  deafening  crash  of  thunder  shook  the 
house,  and  Dan  started  to  his  feet.  A  moment 
later  the  telephone  bell  rang. 

Half  dazed,  he  stumbled  down-stairs  and  took 
up  the  receiver. 

"  Hello,  hello!  Yes,  this  is  Dan  Lewis.  What? 
I  can't  hear  you.  Who?  "  Then  his  back  stiffened 
suddenly,  and  his  voice  grew  tense,  "  Nance ! 
Where  are  you  ?  Is  he  dead  ?  Who  's  with  you  ? 
Don't  be  scared,  I'm  coming!"  and,  leaving  the 
receiver  dangling  on  the  cord,  he  made  one  leap 
for  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

IN    THE    SIGNAL    TOWER 

IT  seemed  an  eternity  to  Dan,  speeding  hatless, 
coatless,-  breathless  through  the  storm,  before 
he  spied  the  red  lights  on  the  lowered  gates  at  the 
crossing.  Dashing  to  the  signal  tower,  he  took 
the  steps  two  at  a  time.  The  small  room  was  al 
most  dark,  but  he  could  see  Nance  kneeling  on  the 
floor  beside  the  big  gatekeeper. 

"  Dan!  Is  it  you?  "  she  cried.  "  He  ain't  dead 
yet.  I  can  feel  him  breathing.  If  the  doctor  would 
only  come !  " 

"Who'd  you  call?" 

"  The  first  one  in  the  book,  Dr.  Adair." 

"  But  he  's  the  big  doctor  up  at  the  hospital ;  he 
won't  come." 

"  He  will  too !  I  told  him  he  had  to.  And  the 
gates,  I  got  'em  down.  Don't  stop  to  feel  his  heart, 
Dan.  Call  the  doctor  again !  " 

'  The  first  thing  to  do  is  to  get  a  light,"  said  Dan. 
"  Ain't  there  a  lantern  or  something?  " 

"  Strike  matches,  like  I  did.  They  are  on  the 
\vindow-sill  —  only  hurry  —  Dan,  hurry !  " 

Dan  went  about  his  task  in  his  own  way,  taking 
271 


272  CALVARY  ALLEY 

time  to  find  an  oil  lamp  on  the  shelf  behind  the 
door  and  deliberately  lighting  it  before  he  took  his 
seat  at  the  telephone.  As  he  waited  for  the  con 
nection,  his  puzzled,  troubled  eyes  dwelt  not  on 
Uncle  Jed,  but  on  the  crimson  boots  and  fantastic 
cap  of  Uncle  Jed's  companion. 

"  Dr.  Adair  is  on  the  way,"  he  said  quietly,  when 
he  hung  up  the  receiver,  "  and  a  man  is  coming 
from  the  yards  to  look  after  the  gates.  Is  he  still 
breathing?  " 

"  Only  when  I  make  him!  "  said  Nance,  pressing 
the  lungs  of  the  injured  man.  "  There,  Uncle  Jed," 
she  coaxed,  "  take  another  deep  breath,  just  one 
time.  Go  on !  Do  it  for  Nance.  One  time  more ! 
That 's  right !  Once  more !  " 

But  Uncle  Jed  was  evidently  very  tired  of  trying 
to  accommodate.  The  gasps  came  at  irregular  in 
tervals. 

"How  long  have  you  been  doing  this?"  asked 
Dan,  kneeling  beside  her. 

"  I  don't  know.     Ever  since  I  came." 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  come?  '' 

"  I  saw  the  lightning  strike  the  bell.  Oh,  Dan ! 
It  was  awful,  the  noise  and  the  flash!  Seemed  like 
I  'd  never  get  up  the  steps.  And  at  first  I  thought 
he  was  dead  and  — " 

"But  who  was  with  you?  Where  were  you 
going?  "  interrupted  Dan  in  bewilderment. 

"  I   was   passing  —  I    was   going   home  —  I  — " 


IN  THE  SIGNAL  TOWER  273 

Her  excited  voice  broke  in  a  sob,  and  she  impatiently 
jerked  the  sleeve  of  her  rain-coat  across  her  eyes. 

In  a  moment  Dan  was  all  tenderness.  For  the 
first  time  he  put  his  arm  around  her  and  awkwardly 
patted  her  shoulder. 

"  There,"  he  said  reassuringly,  "  don't  try  to  tell 
me  now.  See !  He  's  breathing  more  regular !  I 
expect  the  doctor  '11  pull  him  through." 

Nance's, hands,  relieved  of  the  immediate  neces 
sity  for  action,  were  clasping  and  unclasping  nerv 
ously. 

"  Dan,"  she  burst  out,  "  I  got  to  tell  you  some 
thing!  Birdie  Smelts  has  got  me  a  place  in  the 
'  Follies.'  I  been  on  a  couple  of  nights.  I  'm  going 
away  with  'em  in  the  morning." 

Dan  looked  at  her  as  if  he  thought  the  events 
of  the  wild  night  had  deprived  her  of  reason. 

'  You !  "  he  said,  "  going  on  the  stage  ?  "  Then 
as  he  took  it  in,  he  drew  away  from  her  suddenly 
as  if  he  had  received  a  lash  across  the  face.  "  And 
you  were  going  off  without  talking  it  over  or  telling 
me  or  anything?  " 

"  I  was  going  to  write  you,  Dan.  It  was  all  so 
sudden." 

His  eyes  swept  her  bedraggled  figure  with  stern 
disapproval. 

"  Were  you  coming  from  the  theater  at  this  time 
in  the  morning?  " 

Uncle  Jed  moaned  slightly,  and  they  both  bent 


274  CALVARY  ALLEY 

over  him  in  instant  solicitude.  But  there  was  noth 
ing  to  do,  but  wait  until  the  doctor  should  come. 

"Where  had  you  been  in  those  crazy  clothes?" 
persisted  Dan. 

"  I  'd  been  to  the  carnival  ball  with  Birdie  Smelts," 
Nance  blurted  out.  "  I  did  n't  know  it  was  going 
to  be  like  that,  but  I  might  'a'  gone  anyway.  I 
don't  know.  Oh,  Dan,  I  was  sick  to  death  of  being 
stuck  away  in  that  dark  hole,  waiting  for  something 
to  turn  up.  I  told  you  how  it  vvas,  but  you  could  n't 
see  it.  I  was  bound  to  have  a  good  time  if  I  died 
for  it!" 

She  dropped  her  head  on  her  knees  and  sobbed 
unrestrainedly,  while  the  wind  shrieked  around  the 
shanty,  and  the  rain  dashed  against  the  gradually 
lightening  window-pane.  After  a  while  she  flung 
back  her  head  defiantly. 

"  Stop  looking  at  me  like  that,  Dan.  Lots  of 
girls  go  on  the  stage  and  stay  good." 

"  I  was  n't  thinking  about  the  stage,"  said  Dan. 
"  I  was  thinking  about  to-night.  Who  took  you 
girls  to  that  place?  " 

Nance  dried  her  tears. 

"  I  can't  tell  you  that,"  she  said  uneasily. 

"Why  not?" 

"  It  would  n't  be  fair." 

Dan  felt  the  hot  blood  surge  to  his  head,  and 
the  muscles  of  his  hands  tighten  involuntarily.  He 
forgot  Uncle  Jed ;  he  forgot  to  listen  for  the  doctor, 


IN  THE  SIGNAL  TOWER  275 

or  to  worry  about  traffic  that  would  soon  be  held 
up  in  the  street  below.  The  only  man  in  the  world 
for  him  at  that  moment  was  the  scoundrel  who  had 
dared  to  take  his  little  Nance  into  that  infamous 
dance  hall. 

Nance  caught  his  arm  and,  with  a  quick  gesture, 
dropped  her  head  on  it. 

"  Dan,"  she  pleaded,  "  don't  be  mad  at  me.  I 
promise  you  I  won't  go  to  any  more  places  like 
that.  I  knew  it  was  n't  right  all  along.  But  I  got 
to  go  on  with  the  '  Follies.'  It 's  the  chance  I  been 
waiting  for  all  these  months.  Maybe  it 's  the  only 
one  that  '11  ever  come  to  me !  You  ain't  going  to 
stand  in  my  way,  are  you,  Dan  ?  " 

"  Tell  me  who  was  with  you  to-night!  " 

"  No !  "  she  whispered.  "  I  can't.  You  must  n't 
ask  me.  I  promise  you  I  won't  do  it  again.  I 
don't  want  to  go  away  leaving  you  thinking  bad 
of  me." 

His  clenched  hands  suddenly  began  to  tremble 
so  violently  that  he  had  to  clasp  them  tight  to  keep 
her  from  noticing. 

"  I  better  get  used  to  —  to  not  thinking  'bout  you 
at  all,"  he  said,  looking  at  her  with  the  stern  eyes 
of  a  young  ascetic. 

For  a  time  they  knelt  there  side  by  side,  and 
neither  spoke.  For  over  a  year  Dan  had  been  like 
one  standing  still  on  the  banks  of  a  muddy  stream, 
his  eyes  blinded  to  all  but  the  shining  goal  opposite, 


276  CALVARY  ALLEY 

while  Nance  was  like  one  who  plunges  headlong 
into  the  current,  often  losing  sight  of  the  goal  alto 
gether,  but  now  and  again  catching  glimpses  of  it 
that  sent  her  stumbling,  fighting,  falling  forward. 

At  the  sound  of  voices  below  they  both  scrambled 
to  their  feet.  Dr.  Adair  and  the  man  from  the 
yards  came  hurriedly  up  the  steps  together,  the 
former  drawing  off  his  gloves  as  he  came.  He  was 
a  compact,  elderly  man  whose  keen  observant  eyes 
swept  the  room  and  its  occupants  at  a  glance.  He 
listened  to  Nance's  broken  recital  of  what  had  hap 
pened,  cut  her  short  when  he  had  obtained  the  main 
facts,  and  proceeded  to  examine  the  patient. 

"  The  worst  injury  is  evidently  to  the  right  arm 
and  shoulder ;  you  '11  have  to  help  me  get  his  shirt 
off.  No  —  not  that  way!" 

Dan's  hands,  so  eager  to  serve,  so  awkward  in  the 
service,  fumbled  over  their  task,  eliciting  a  groan 
from  the  unconscious  man. 

"  Let  me  do  it!  "  cried  Nance,  springing  forward. 
"  You  hold  him  up,  Dan,  I  can  get  it  off." 

"  It  's  a  nasty  job,"  warned  the  doctor,  with  a 
mistrustful  glance  at  the  youthful,  tear-stained  face. 
"  It  may  make  you  sick." 

"What  if  it  does?"  demanded  Nance,  impa 
tiently. 

It  was  a  long  and  distressing  proceeding,  and 
Dan  tried  not  to  look  at  her  as  she  bent  in  absorbed 
detachment  over  her  work.  But  her  steady  finger- 


IN  THE  SIGNAL  TOWER  277 

touch,  and  her  anticipation  of  the  doctor's  needs 
amazed  him.  It  recalled  the  day  at  the  factory, 
when  she,  little  more  than  a  child  herself,  had 
dressed  the  wounds  of  the  carrying-in  boy.  Once 
she  grew  suddenly  white  and  had  to  hurry  to  the 
door  and  let  the  wind  blow  in  her  face.  He  started 
up  to  follow  her,  but  changed  his  mind.  Instead 
he  protested  with  unnecessary  vehemence  against 
her  resuming  the  work,  but  she  would  not  heed  him. 

"  That 's  right !  "  said  the  doctor,  approvingly. 
"  Stick  it  out  this  time  and  next  time  it  will  not 
make  you  sick.  Our  next  move  is  to  get  him  home. 
Where  does  he  live?  " 

"In  Calvary  Alley,"  said  Dan,  "back  of  the 
cathedral." 

"  Very  good,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I  '11  run  him 
around  there  in  my  machine  as  soon  as  that  last 
hypodermic  takes  effect.  Any  family?" 

Dan  shook  his  head. 

"He  has,  too!"  cried  Nance.  "We're  his 
family!" 

The  doctor  shot  an  amused  glance  at  her  over 
his  glasses;  then  he  laid  a  kindly  hand  on  her 
shoulder. 

"  I  congratulate  him  on  this  part  of  it.  You 
make  a  first  class  little  nurse." 

"  Is  he  going  to  get  well?  "  Nance  demanded. 

"  It  is  too  early  to  say,  my  dear.  We  will  hope 
for  the  best.  I  will  have  one  of  the  doctors  come 


278  CALVARY  ALLEY 

out  from  the  hospital  every  day  to  see  him,  but 
everything  will  depend  on  the  nursing." 

Nance  cast  a  despairing  look  at  the  bandaged 
figure  on  the  floor;  then  she  shot  a  look  of  entreaty 
at  Dan.  One  showed  as  little  response  to  her  ap 
peal  as  the  other.  For  a  moment  she  stood  irreso 
lute;  then  she  slipped  out  of  the  room  and  closed 
the  door  behind  her. 

For  a  moment  Dan  did  not  miss  her.  When 
he  did,  he  left  Dr.  Adair  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence 
and  went  plunging  down  the  steps  in  hot  pursuit. 

"  Nance!  "  he  called,  splashing  through  the  mud. 
"  Are  n't  you  going  to  say  good-by  ?  " 

She  wheeled  on  him  furiously,  a  wild,  dishevelled, 
little  figure,  strung  to  the  breaking  point: 

"  No ! "  she  cried,  "  I  am  not  going  to  say 
good-by !  Do  you  suppose  I  could  go  away  with 
you  acting  like  that?  And  who  is  there  to  nurse 
Uncle  Jed,  I  'd  like  to  know,  but  me  ?  But  I  want 
to  tell  you  right  now,  Dan  Lewis,  if  ever  another 
chance  comes  to  get  out  of  that  alley,  I  'm  going  to 
take  it,  and  there  can't  anybody  in  the  world  stop 
me!" 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

CALVARY    CATHEDRAL 

I    DON'T  take  no  stock  in  heaven  havin'  streets 
of  gold,"  said  Mrs.  Snawdor.     "  It  '11  be  just 
my  luck  to  have  to  polish  'em.     You  need  n't  tell  me 
if  there  's  all  that  finery  in  heaven,  they  won't  keep 
special  angels  to  do  the  dirty  work !  " 

She  and  Mrs.  Smelts  were  scrubbing  down  the 
stairs  of  Number  One,  not  as  a  matter  of  cleanli 
ness,  but  for  the  social  benefit  to  be  derived  there 
from.  It  was  a  Sunday  morning  institution  with 
them,  and  served  quite  the  same  purpose  that 
church-going  does  for  certain  ladies  in  a  more  ex 
alted  sphere. 

"  I  hope  the  Bible  's  true,"  said  Mrs.  Smelts,  with 
a  sigh.  "  Where  it  says  there  ain't  no  marryin'  nor 
givin'  in  marriage." 

"  Oh,  husbands  ain't  so  worse  if  you  pick  'em 
right,"  Mrs.  Snawdor  said  with  the  conviction  of 
experience.  "  As  fer  me,  I  ain't  hesitatin'  to  say  I 
like  the  second-handed  ones  best." 

"  I  suppose  they  are  better  broke  in.  But  no 
other  woman  but  me  would  'a'  looked  at  Mr. 
Smelts." 

279 


280  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  You  can't  tell,"  said  Mrs.  Snawdor.  "  Think 
of  me  takin'  Snawdor  after  bein'  used  to  Yager  an' 
Molloy!  Why,  if  you'll  believe  me,  Mr.  Burks, 
lyin'  there  in  bed  fer  four  months  now,  takes  more 
of  a  hand  in  helpin'  with  the  childern  than  Snawdor, 
who  's  up  an'  around." 

"  Kin  he  handle  hisself  any  better?  Mr.  Burks, 
I  mean." 

"  Improvin'  right  along.  Nance  has  got  him  to 
workin'  on  a  patent  now.  It 's  got  somethin'  to  do 
with  a  engine  switch.  Wisht  you  could  see  the 
railroad  yards  she  's  rigged  up  on  his  bed.  The 
childern  are  plumb  crazy  'bout  it." 

"  Nance  is  gittin'  awful  pretty,"  Mrs.  Smelts  said. 
"  I  kinder  'lowed  Dan  Lewis  an'  her  'd  be  makin'  a 
match  before  this." 

Mrs.  Snawdor  gathered  her  skirts  higher  about 
her  ankles  and  transferred  her  base  of  operations 
to  a  lower  step. 

"  You  can't  tell  nothin'  at  all  'bout  that  girl.  She 
was  born  with  the  bit  'tween  her  teeth,  an'  she  keeps 
it  there.  No  more  'n  you  git  her  goin'  in  one  di 
rection  than  she  turns  up  a  alley  on  you.  It 's 
night  school  now.  There  ain't  a  spare  minute  she 
ain't  peckin'  on  that  ole  piece  of  a  type-writer  Ike 
Lavinski  loaned  her." 

"  She  's  got  a  awful  lot  of  energy,"  sighed  Mrs. 
Smelts. 

"  Energy !     Why  it 's  somethin'  fierce !     She  ain't 


CALVARY  CATHEDRAL  281 

content  to  let  nothin'  stay  the  way  it  is.  Wears  the 
childern  plumb  out  washin'  'em  an'  learnin'  'em 
lessons,  an'  harpin'  on  their  manners.  If  you  be 
lieve  me,  she  's  got  William  J.  that  hacked  he  goes 
behind  the  door  to  blow  his  nose ! " 

"  It 's  a  blessin'  she  did  n't  go  off  with  them  *  Fol 
lies,'  "  said  Mrs.  Smelts.  "  Birdie  lost  her  job  over 
two  months  ago,  an'  the  Lord  knows  what  she  's 
livin'  on.  The  last  I  heard  of  her  she  was  sick  an' 
stranded  up  in  Cincinnati,  an'  me  without  so  much 
as  a  dollar  bill  to  send  her !  "  And  Mrs.  Smelts 
sat  down  in  a  puddle  of  soap-suds  and  gave  herself 
up  to  the  luxury  of  tears. 

At  this  moment  a  door  on  the  third  floor  banged, 
and  Nance  Molloy,  a  white  figure  against  her  grimy 
surroundings,  picked  her  way  gingerly  down  the 
slippery  steps.  Her  cheap,  cotton  skirt  had  exactly 
the  proper  flare,  and  her  tailor-made  shirtwaist  was 
worn  with  the  proud  distinction  of  one  who  con 
forms  in  line,  if  not  in  material,  to  the  mode  of  the 
day. 

"  Ain't  she  the  daisy?  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Snawdor, 
gaily,  and  even  Mrs.  Smelts  dried  her  eyes,  the  bet 
ter  to  appreciate  Nance's  gala  attire. 

"  We  're  too  swell  to  be  Methodist  any  longer !  " 
went  on  Mrs.  Snawdor,  teasingly.  "  We  're  turned 
Tiscopal!" 

'  You  ain't  ever  got  the  nerve  to  be  goin'  over 
to  the  cathedral,"  Mrs.  Smelts  asked  incredulously. 


282  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"Sure,  why  not?"  said  Nance,  giving  her  hat 
a  more  sophisticated  tilt.  "  Salvation 's  as  free 
there  as  it  is  anywhere." 

It  was  not  salvation,  however,  that  was  concern 
ing  Nance  Molloy  as  she  took  her  way  jauntily  out 
of  the  alley  and,  circling  the  square,  joined  the 
throng  of  well-dressed  men  and  women  ascending 
the  broad  steps  of  the  cathedral. 

From  that  day  when  she  had  found  herself  back 
in  the  alley,  like  a  bit  of  driftwood  that  for  a  brief 
space  is  whirled  out  of  its  stagnant  pool,  only  to 
be  cast  back  again,  she  had  planned  ceaselessly  for  a 
means  of  escape.  During  the  first  terrible  weeks 
of  Uncle  Jed's  illness,  her  thoughts  flew  for  relief 
sometimes  to  Dan,  sometimes  to  Mac.  And  Dan 
answered  her  silent  appeal  in  person,  coming  daily 
with  his  clumsy  hands  full  of  necessities,  his  strong 
arms  ready  to  lift,  his  slow  speech  quickened  to 
words  of  hope  and  cheer.  Mac  came  only  in 
dreams,  with  gay,  careless  eyes  and  empty,  useless 
hands,  and  lips  that  asked  more  than  they  gave. 
Yet  it  was  around  Mac's  shining  head  that  the  halo 
of  romance  oftenest  hovered. 

It  was  not  until  Uncle  Jed  grew  better,  and  Dan's 
visits  ceased,  that  Nance  realized  what  they  had 
meant  to  her.  To  be  sure  her  efforts  to  restore 
things  to  their  old  familiar  footing  had  been  fruit 
less,  for  Dan  refused  stubbornly  to  overlook  the 


CALVARY  CATHEDRAL  283 

secret  that  stood  between  them,  and  Nance,  for  rea 
sons  best  known  to  herself,  refused  to  explain  mat 
ters. 

But  youth  reckons  time  by  heart-throbs,  and  dur 
ing  Uncle  Jed's  convalescence  Nance  found  the 
clock  of  life  running  ridiculously  slow.  Through 
Ike  Lavinski,  whose  favor  she  had  won  by  intro 
ducing  him  to  Dr.  Adair,  she  learned  of  a  night 
school  where  a  business  course  could  be  taken  with 
out  expense.  She  lost  no  time  in  enrolling  and, 
owing  to  her  thorough  grounding  of  the  year  be 
fore,  was  soon  making  rapid  progress.  Every  night 
on  her  way  to  school,  she  walked  three  squares  out 
of  her  way  on  the  chance  of  meeting  Dan  coming 
from  the  factory,  and  coming  and  going,  she 
watched  the  cathedral,  wondering  if  Mac  still  sang 
there. 

One  Sunday,  toward  the  close  of  summer,  she 
followed  a  daring  impulse,  and  went  to  the  morn 
ing  service.  She  sat  in  one  of  the  rear  pews  and 
held  her  breath  as  the  procession  of  white-robed 
men  and  boys  filed  into  the  choir.  Mac  Clarke  was 
not  among  them,  and  she  gave  a  little  sigh  of  disap 
pointment,  and  wondered  if  she  could  slip  out  again. 

On  second  thought  she  decided  to  stay.  Even  in 
the  old  days  when  she  had  stolen  into  the  cathedral 
to  look  for  nickels  under  the  seats,  she  had  been 
acutely  aware  of  "  the  pretties."  But  she  had  never 


284  CALVARY  ALLEY 

attended  a  service,  or  seen  the  tapers  lighted,  and  the 
vast,  cool  building,  with  its  flickering  lights  and  dis 
turbing  music,  impressed  her  profoundly. 

Presently  she  began  to  make  discoveries:  the 
meek  apologetic  person  tip-toeing  about  lowering 
windows  was  no  other  than  the  pompous  and  lordly 
Mason  who  had  so  often  loomed  over  her  as  an 
avenging  deity.  In  the  bishop,  clad  in  stately  robes, 
performing  mysterious  rites  before  the  altar,  she 
recognized  "  the  funny  old  guy  "  with  the  bald  head, 
with  whom  she  had  compared  breakfast  menus  on  a 
historical  day  at  the  graded  school. 

So  absorbed  was  she  in  these  revelations  that  she 
did  not  notice  that  she  was  sitting  down  while  every 
body  else  was  standing  up,  until  a  small  black  book 
was  thrust  over  her  shoulder  and  a  white-gloved 
finger  pointed  to  the  top  of  the  page.  She  rose 
hastily  and  tried  to  follow  the  service.  It  seemed 
that  the  bishop  was  reading  something  which  the 
people  all  around  her  were  beseeching  the  Lord  to 
hear.  She  did  n't  wonder  that  the  Lord  had  to  be 
begged  to  listen.  She  was  n't  going  to  listen ;  that 
was  one  thing  certain. 

Then  the  organ  pealed  forth,  and  voices  caught  up 
the  murmuring  words  and  lifted  them  and  her  with 
them  to  the  great  arched  ceiling.  As  long  as  the 
music  lasted,  she  sat  spell-boupd,  but  when  the 
bishop  began  to  read  again,  this  time  from  a  book 
resting  on  the  out-stretched  wings  of  a  big  brass 


CALVARY  CATHEDRAL  285 

bird,  her  attention  wandered  to  the  great  stained 
glass  window  above  the  altar.  The  reverse  side  of 
it  was  as  familiar  to  her  as  the  sign  over  Slap 
Jack's  saloon.  From  the  alley  it  presented  opaque 
blocks  of  glass  above  the  legend  that  had  been  one 
of  the  mysteries  of  her  childhood.  Now  as  she 
looked,  the  queer  figures  became  shining  angels  with 
lilies  in  their  hands,  and  she  made  the  amazing  dis 
covery  that  "  Evol  si  dog,"  seen  from  the  inside, 
spelled  "  God  is  Love." 

She  sat  quite  still,  pondering  the  matter.  The 
bishop  and  the  music  and  even  Mac  were  for  the 
time  completely  forgotten.  Was  the  world  full  of 
things  like  that,  puzzling  and  confused  from  the 
outside,  and  simple  and  easy  from  within?  Within 
what?  Her  mind  groped  uncertainly  along  a 
strange  path.  So  God  was  love  ?  Why  had  n't  the 
spectacled  lady  told  her  so  that  time  in  the  juvenile 
court  instead  of  writing  down  her  foolish  answer? 
But  love  had  to  do  with  sweethearts  and  dime  novels 
and  plays  on  the  stage.  How  could  God  be  that? 
Maybe  it  meant  the  kind  of  love  Mr.  Demry  had  for 
his  little  daughter,  or  the  love  that  Dan  had  for  his 
mother,  or  the  love  she  had  for  the  Snawdor  baby 
that  died.  Maybe  the  love  that  was  good  was  God, 
and  the  love  that  was  bad  was  the  devil,  maybe  - 

Her  struggle  with  these  wholly  new  and  perplex 
ing  problems  was  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  a 
belated  worshiper,  who  glided  into  the  seat  beside 


286  CALVARY  ALLEY 

her  and  languidly  knelt  in  prayer.  Nance's  atten 
tion  promptly  leaped  from  moral  philosophy  to 
clothes.  Her  quick  eyes  made  instant  appraisal  of 
the  lady's  dainty  costume,  then  rested  in  startled 
surprise  on  her  lowered  profile.  The  straight  deli 
cate  features,  slightly  foreign,  the  fair  hair  rippling 
from  the  neck,  were  disconcertingly  familiar.  But 
when  Nance  saw  her  full  face,  with  the  petulant 
mouth  and  wrinkled  brow,  the  impression  vanished. 

After  along  time  the  service  came  to  an  end,  and 
just  as  Nance  was  waiting  to  pass  out,  she  heard 
some  one  say: 

"  When  do  you  expect  your  son  home,  Mrs. 
Clarke?  We  miss  him  in  the  choir." 

And  the  fair-haired  lady  in  front  of  her  looked 
up  and  smiled,  and  all  her  wrinkles  vanished  as  she 
said  : 

"  We  expect  him  home  before  next  Sunday,  if 
the  naughty  boy  does  n't  disappoint  us  again !  " 

Nance  waited  to  hear  no  more,  but  fled  into  the 
sunlight  and  around  the  corner,  hugging  her  secret. 
She  was  not  going  to  let  Mr.  Mac  see  her,  she  as 
sured  herself;  she  was  just  going  to  see  him,  and 
hear  him  sing. 

When  the  next  Sunday  morning  came,  it  found 
her  once  more  hurrying  up  the  broad  steps  of  the 
cathedral.  She  was  just  in  time,  for  as  she  slipped 
into  a  vacant  pew,  the  notes  of  the  organ  began  to 
swell,  and  from  a  side  door  came  the  procession 


CALVARY  CATHEDRAL  287 

of  choir  boys,  headed  by  Mac  Clarke  carrying  a 
great  cross  of  gold. 

Nance,  hiding  behind  the  broad  back  of  the  man 
in  front  of  her,  watched  the  procession  move  into 
the  chancel,  and  saw  the  members  of  the  choir  file 
into  their  places.  She  had  no  interest  now  in  the 
bishop's  robes  or  the  lighted  tapers  or  cryptic  in 
scriptions.  Throughout  the  long  service  her  atten 
tion  was  riveted  on  the  handsome,  white-robed  fig 
ure  which  sat  in  a  posture  of  bored  resignation, 
wearing  an  expression  of  Christian  martyrdom. 

When  the  recessional  sounded,  she  rose  with  the 
rest  of  the  congregation,  still  keeping  behind  the 
protecting  back  of  the  man  in  front.  But  when  she 
saw  Mac  lift  the  shining  cross  and  come  toward  her 
down  the  chancel  steps  at  the  head  of  the  singing- 
procession,  something  made  her  move  suddenly  to 
the  end  of  the  pew,  straight  into  the  shaft  of  light 
that  streamed  through  the  great  west  window. 

Mac,  with  his  foot  on  the  lowest  step,  paused  for 
the  fraction  of  a  second,  and  the  cross  that  he  held 
swayed  slightly.  Then  he  caught  step  again  and 
moved  steadily  forward. 

Nance  hurried  away  before  the  benediction.  She 
was  never  going  to  do  it  again,  she  promised  herself 
repeatedly.  And  yet,  how  wonderful  it  had  been ! 
Straight  over  the  heads  of  the  congregation  for 
their  eyes  to  meet  like  that,  and  for  him  to  remem 
ber  as  she  was  remembering! 


288  CALVARY  ALLEY 

For  three  weeks  she  kept  her  promise  and  reso 
lutely  stayed  away  from  the  cathedral.  One  would 
have  to  be  "  goin'  on  nineteen  "  and  live  in  Calvary 
Alley  to  realize  the  heroic  nature  of  her  moral  strug 
gle.  Victory  might  have  been  hers  in  the  end,  had 
not  Dan  Lewis  for  the  first  time  in  years,  failed  one 
Saturday  to  spend  his  half-holiday  with  her.  He 
had  come  of  late,  somber  and  grimly  determined  to 
give  her  no  peace  until  he  knew  the  truth.  But 
Dan,  even  in  that  mood,  was  infinitely  better  than 
no  Dan  at  all.  When  he  sent  her  word  that  he 
was  going  with  some  of  the  men  from  the  factory 
up  the  river  for  a  swim,  she  gave  her  shoulders  a 
defiant  shrug,  and  set  to  work  to  launder  her  one 
white  dress  and  stove-polish  her  hat,  with  the 
pleasing  results  we  have  already  witnessed  through 
the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Snawdor  and  Mrs.  Smelts. 

There  is  no  place  where  a  flirtation  takes  quicker 
root  or  matures  more  rapidly  than  in  ecclesiastical 
soil.  From  the  moment  Nance  entered  the  ca 
thedral  on  that  third  Sunday,  she  and  Mac  were  as 
acutely  aware  of  each  other's  every  move  as  if  they 
had  been  alone  together  in  the  garden  of  Eden. 
At  first  she  tried  to  avert  her  eyes,  tried  not  to  see 
his  insistent  efforts  to  attract  her  attention,  affected 
not  to  know  that  he  was  singing  to  her,  and  watch 
ing  her  with  impatient  delight. 

Then  the  surging  notes  of  the  organ  died  away, 
the  bishop  ascended  the  pulpit,  and  the  congregation 


CALVARY  CATHEDRAL  289 

settled  down  to  hear  the  sermon.  From  that  time 
on  Nance  ceased  to  be  discreet.  There  was  glance 
for  glance,  and  smile  for  smile,  and  the  innumerable 
wireless  messages  that  youth  has  exchanged  since 
ardent  eyes  first  sought  each  other  across  forbidden 
spaces. 

It  was  not  until  the  end  of  the  sermon  that  Nance 
awoke  to  the  fact  that  it  was  high  time  for  Cinder 
ella  to  be  speeding  on  her  way.  Seizing  a  moment 
when  the  choir's  back  was  turned  to  the  congrega 
tion,  she  slipped  noiselessly  out  of  the  cathedral  and 
was  fleeing  down  the  steps  when  she  came  face  to 
face  with  Monte  Pearce. 

"  Caught  at  last !  "  he  exclaimed,  planting  him 
self  firmly  in  her  way.  "  I  've  been  playing  watch 
dog  for  Mac  for  three  Sundays.  What  are  you 
doing  in  town  ?  " 

"In  town?" 

'  Yes ;  we  thought  you  were  on  the  road  with  the 
'  Follies.'  When  did  you  get  back  ?  " 

"  You  're  seeking  information,  Mr.  Monte  Carlo," 
said  Nance,  with  a  smile.  "  Let  me  by.  I  've  got 
to  go  home." 

"  I  '11  go  with  you.     Where  do  you  live  ?  " 

"  Under  my  hat." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  a  nicer  place  to  be."  Monte 
laughed  and  looked  at  her  and  kept  on  laughing, 
until  she  felt  herself  blushing  up  to  the  roots  of 
her  hair. 


290  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  Honest,  Mr.  Monte,  I  got  to  go  on,"  she  said 
appealingly.  "  I  'm  in  no  end  of  a  hurry." 

"  I  can  go  as  fast  as  you  can,"  said  Monte,  his 
cane  tapping  each  step  as  he  tripped  briskly  down 
beside  her.  "  I  've  got  my  orders  from  Mac.  I  'm 
to  stay  with  you,  if  you  won't  stay  with  me.  Which 
way?" 

In  consternation  for  fear  the  congregation  should 
be  dismissed  before  she  could  get  away,  and  de 
termined  not  to  let  him  know  where  she  lived,  she 
jumped  aboard  a  passing  car. 

"  So  be  it!  "  said  her  plump  companion,  settling 
himself  comfortably  on  the  back  seat  beside  her. 
"  Now  tell  your  Uncle  Monte  all  about  it !  " 

"  There  's  nothing  to  tell !  "  declared  Nance,  with 
the  blush  coming  back.  She  was  finding  it  dis 
tinctly  agreeable  to  be  out  alone  like  this  with  a 
grandly  sophisticated  young  gentleman  who  wore 
a  light  linen  suit  with  shoes  to  match,  and  whose 
sole  interest  seemed  to  center  upon  her  and  her 
affairs. 

"  But  you  know  there  is !  "  he  persisted.  "  What 
made  you  give  us  the  shake  that  night  of  the  ball?  " 

Nance  refused  to  say;  so  he  changed  the  subject. 

"How's  Miss  Birdie?" 

"  Give  it  up.     Have  n't  seen  her  since  you  have." 

"  What  ?  Did  n't  you  go  on  with  the  show  that 
next  morning?  " 

"  No." 


CALVARY  CATHEDRAL  291 

"  And  you  've  been  in  town  all  summer?  " 

She  nodded,  and  her  companion  gave  a  low,  in 
credulous  whistle. 

"Well,  I'll  be  darned!"  he  said.  "And  old 
Mac  sending  letters  and  telegrams  every  few  min 
utes  and  actually  following  the  '  Follies '  to  Bos 
ton!" 

"  Birdie  was  with  'em  up  to  two  months  ago,"  said 
Nance. 

"  Mac  was  n't  after  Birdie!  "  said  Monte.  "  He 
has  n't  had  but  one  idea  in  his  cranium  since  that 
night  of  the  carnival  ball.  I  never  saw  him  so  crazy 
about  a  girl  as  he  is  about  you." 

"  Yes,  he  is ! "  scoffed  Nance,  derisively,  but  she 
let  Monte  run  on  at  length,  painting  in  burning 
terms  the  devastating  extent  of  Mac's  passion,  his 
despair  at  losing  her,  his  delight  at  finding  her 
again,  and  his  impatience  for  an  interview. 

When  Monte  finished  she  looked  at  him  sidewise 
out  of  her  half -closed  eyes. 

'  Tell  him  I  've  gone  on  a  visit  to  my  rich  aunt 
out  to  the  sea-shore  in  Kansas." 

"  Give  him  another  show,"  coaxed  Monte.  "  We 
were  all  a  bit  lit  up  that  night  at  the  ball." 

"No,  we  weren't  either!"  Nance  flashed.  "I 
had  n't  had  a  thing,  but  one  glass  of  beer,  and  you 
know  it!  I  hate  your  old  fizz-water!  " 

"  Well,  make  it  up  with  Mac.  He  's  going  back 
to  college  next  month,  and  he  's  wild  to  see  you." 


292  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  Tell  him  I  have  n't  got  time.  Tell  him  I  'm 
studying  instrumental." 

Nance  was  fencing  for  time.  Her  cool,  keen  in 
difference  gave  little  indication  of  the  turmoil  that 
was  going  on  within.  If  she  could  manage  to  see 
Mac  without  letting  him  know  where  she  lived, 
without  Dan's  finding  it  out  — 

The  car  compassed  the  loop  and  started  on  the 
return  trip. 

"  Where  do  we  get  off?  "  asked  Monte. 

"  I  'm  not  getting  off  anywhere  until  after  you 
do." 

"  I  've  got  lots  of  nickels." 

"  I  've  got  lots  of  time !  "  returned  Nance,  regard 
less  of  her  former  haste. 

At  Cathedral  Square,  Monte  rang  the  bell. 

"  Have  it  your  own  way,"  he  said  good-naturedly. 
"  But  do  send  a  message  to  Mac." 

Nance  let  him  get  off  the  back  platform;  then 
she  put  her  head  out  of  the  window. 

"  You  tell  him,"  she  called,  "  that  he  can't  kill 
two  birds  with  one  stone !  " 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
BACK  AT  CLARKE'S 

THE  promotion  of  Uncle  Jed  from  the  bed  to 
a  pair  of  crutches  brought  about  two  im 
portant  changes  in  the  house  of  Snawdor.  First, 
a  financial  panic  caused  by  the  withdrawal  of  his 
insurance  money,  and,  second,  a  lightening  of 
Nance's  home  duties  that  sent  her  once  more  into 
the  world  to  seek  a  living. 

By  one  of  those  little  ironies  in  which  life  seems 
to  delight,  the  only  opportunity  that  presented  it 
self  lay  directly  in  the  path  of  temptation.  A  few 
days  after  her  interview  with  Monte  Pearce,  Dan 
came  to  her  with  an  offer  to  do  some  office  work  at 
the  bottle  factory.  The  regular  stenographer  was 
off  on  a  vacation,  and  a  substitute  was  wanted  for 
the  month  of  September. 

"  Why,  I  thought  you  'd  be  keen  about  it,"  said 
Dan,  surprised  at  her  hesitation. 

"  Oh !     I  'd  like  it  all  right,  but  — " 

'  You  need  n't  be  afraid  to  tackle  it,"  Dan  urged. 
"  Mr.  Clarke  's  not  as  fierce  as  he  looks ;  he  'd  let 
you  go  a  bit  slow  at  first." 

"  He  would  n't  have  to !  I  bet  I  've  got  as  much 
293 


294  CALVARY  ALLEY 

speed  now  as  the  girl  he  's  had.     It 's  not  the  work." 

"  I  know  how  you  feel  about  the  factory,"  said 
Dan,  "  and  I  would  n't  want  you  to  go  back  in  the 
finishing  room.  The  office  is  different.  You  take 
my  word  for  it ;  it 's  as  nice  a  place  as  you  could 
find." 

They  were  standing  on  the  doorless  threshold  of 
Number  One,  under  the  fan-shaped  arch  through 
which  the  light  had  failed  to  shine  for  twenty  years. 
From  the  room  on  the  left  came  the  squeak  of  Mr. 
Demry's  fiddle  and  the  sound  of  pattering  feet, 
synchronizing  oddly  with  the  lugubrious  hymn  in 
which  Mrs.  Smelts,  in  the  room  opposite,  was  giving 
vent  to  her  melancholy. 

Nance,  eager  for  her  chance,  yearning  for  finan 
cial  independence,  obsessed  by  the  desire  to  escape 
from  the  dirt  and  disorder  and  confusion  about  her, 
still  hesitated. 

"If  you  're  afraid  I  'm  going  to  worry  you,"  said 
Dan,  fumbling  with  his  cap,  "  I  can  keep  out  of  your 
way  all  right." 

In  an  instant  her  impulsive  hand  was  on  his 
arm. 

"  You  shut  up,  Dan  Lewis !  "  she  said  sharply. 
"  What  makes  me  want  to  take  the  job  most  is  our 
coming  home  together  every  night  like  we  used  to." 

Dan's  eyes,  averted  until  now,  lifted  with  sud 
den  hope. 

"  But  I  got  a  good  reason  for  not  coming,"  she 


BACK  AT  CLARKE'S  295 

went  on  stubbornly.  "  It  has  n't  got  anything  to 
do  with  you  or  the  work." 

"  Can't  you  tell  me,  Nance?  " 

The  flicker  of  hope  died  out  of  his  face  as  she 
shook  her  head.  He  looked  down  the  alley  for  a 
moment;  then  he  turned  toward  her  with  deci 
sion: 

"  See  here,  Nance,"  he  said  earnestly,  "  I  don't 
know  what  your  reason  is,  but  I  know  that  this  is 
one  chance  in  a  hundred.  I  want  you  to  take  this 
job.  If  I  come  by  for  you  to-morrow  morning, 
will  you  be  ready?  " 

Still  she  hesitated. 

"  Let  me  decide  it  for  you,"  he  insisted,  "  will 
you,  Nance?  " 

She  looked  up  into  his  earnest  eyes,  steadfast  and 
serious  as  a  collie's. 

"  All  right !  "  she  said  recklessly,  "  have  it  your 
own  way !  " 

The  first  day  in  Mr.  Clarke's  office  was  one  of 
high  tension.  Added  to  the  trepidation  of  putting 
her  newly  acquired  business  knowledge  to  a  prac 
tical  test,  was  the  much  more  disturbing  possibility 
that  at  any  moment  Mac  might  happen  upon  the 
scene.  Just  what  she  was  going  to  do  and  say  in 
such  a  contingency  she  did  not  know.  Once  when 
she  heard  the  door  open  cautiously,  she  was  afraid 
to  lift  her  eyes.  When  she  did,  surprise  took  the 
place  of  fear. 


296  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"Why,  Mrs.  Smelts!"  she  cried.  "What  on 
earth  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

Birdie's  mother,  faded  and  anxious,  and  looking 
unfamiliar  in  bonnet  and  cape,  was  evidently  em 
barrassed  by  Nance's  unexpected  presence. 

"  He  sent  for  me,"  she  said,  nervously,  twitching 
at  the  fringe  on  her  cape.  "  I  wrote  to  his  wife, 
but  he  sent  word  fer  me  to  come  here  an'  see  him  at 
ten  o'clock.  Is  it  ten  yet?" 

*'  Mr.  Clarke  sent  for  you? "  Nance  began  in 
credulously  ;  then  remembering  that  a  stenographer's 
first  business  is  to  attend  to  her  own,  she  crossed 
the  room  with  quite  a  professional  manner  and 
tapped  lightly  on  the  door  of  the  inner  office. 

For  half  an  hour  the  usually  inaccessible  presi 
dent  of  the  bottle  factory  and  the  scrub  woman  from 
Calvary  Alley  held  mysterious  conclave;  then  the 
door  opened  again,  and  Mrs.  Smelts  melted  into  the 
outer  passage  as  silently  as  she  had  come. 

Nance,  while  frankly  curious,  had  little  time  to 
indulge  in  idle  surmise.  All  her  faculties  were 
bent  on  mastering  the  big  modern  type-writer  that 
presented  such  different  problems  from  the  ancient 
machine  on  which  she  had  pounded  out  her  lessons. 
She  did  n't  like  this  sensitive,  temperamental  affair 
that  went  off  half-cocked  at  her  slightest  touch,  and 
did  things  on  its  own  account  that  she  was  in  the 
habit  of  doing  herself. 

Her  first  dictation   left  her  numb  with  terror. 


BACK  AT  CLARKE'S  297 

She  heard  Mr.  Clarke  repeating  with  lightning 
rapidity  phrases  which  she  scarcely  comprehended: 
"  Enclose  check  for  amount  agreed  upon."  "  Mat 
ter  settled  once  and  for  all."  "  Any  further  an 
noyance  to  be  punished  to  full  extent  of  the  law." 

"Shall  I  address  an  envelope?"  she  asked, 
glancing  at  the  "  Dear  Madam  "  at  the  top  of  the 
page. 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Clarke,  sharply,  "  I  '11  attend  to 
that." 

Other  letters  followed,  and  she  was  soon  taking 
them  with  considerable  speed.  When  mistakes  oc 
curred  they  could  usually  be  attributed  to  the 
graded  school  which,  during  its  brief  chance  at 
Nance,  had  been  more  concerned  in  teaching  her 
the  names  and  the  lengths  of  the  rivers  of  South 
America  than  in  teaching  her  spelling. 

At  the  noon  hour  Mr.  Clarke  departed,  and  she 
stood  by  the  window  eating  her  lunch  and  watching 
the  men  at  work  on  the  new  wing.  The  old  fin 
ishing  room  was  a  thing  of  the  past,  and  Dan's 
dream  of  a  light,  well-ventilated  workroom  for  the 
girls  was  already  taking  definite  form.  She  could 
see  him  now  in  the  yard  below,  a  blue-print  in  his 
hand,  explaining  to  a  group  of  workmen  some  de 
tail  of  the  new  building.  One  old  glass-blower, 
peering  at  the  plan  through  heavy,  steel-rimmed 
spectacles,  had  his  arm  across  Dan's  shoulder. 
Nance  smiled  tenderly.  Dear  Dan!  Everybody 


298  CALVARY  ALLEY 

liked  him  —  even  those  older,  men  from  the  furnace- 
room  who  had  seen  him  promoted  over  their  heads. 
She  leaned  forward  impulsively  and  called  to  him. 

"  Danny !  "  she  cried,  "  here  's  an  apple.     Catch !  " 

He  caught  it  dexterously  in  his  left  hand,  gave 
her  a  casual  nod,  then  went  gravely  on  with  the 
business  in  hand.  Nance  sighed  and  turned  away 
from  the  window. 

In  the  afternoon  the  work  went  much  easier. 
She  was  getting  used  to  Mr.  Clarke's  quick,  nervous 
speech  and  abrupt  manner.  She  was  beginning  to 
think  in  sentences  instead  of  words.  All  was  going 
famously  when  a  quick  step  sounded  in  the  passage 
without,  followed  by  a  gaily  whistled  tune,  and  the 
next  instant  the  door  behind  her  was  flung  open. 

Mr.  Clarke  went  steadily  on  with  his  dictation, 
but  the  new  stenographer  ceased  to  follow.  \Yith 
bent  head  and  lips  caught  between  her  teeth,  she 
made  futile  efforts  to  catch  up,  but  she  only  suc 
ceeded  in  making  matters  worse. 

"  That  will  do  for  this  afternoon,"  said  Mr. 
Clarke,  seeing  her  confusion.  "  Make  a  clear  copy 
of  that  last  letter  and  put  it  on  my  desk."  Then 
he  turned  in  his  chair  and  glared  over  his  shoulder. 
"  Well,  Mac!  "  he  said,  "  I  've  waited  for  you  just 
one  hour  and  thirty-five  minutes." 

"  Dead  sorry,  Dad.  Did  n't  know  it  was  so  late," 
said  the  new-comer,  blithely.  "  How  long  before 
you  are  going  home  ?  " 


BACK  AT  CLARKE'S  299 

"  Ten  minutes.  I  've  got  to  go  over  to  the  new 
building  first.  Don't  go  until  I  return.  There  's 
something  I  want  to  see  you  about." 

Nance  heard  the  door  close  as  Mr.  Clarke  went 
out;  then  she  waited  in  a  tremor,  half  trepidation, 
half  glee,  for  Mac  to  recognize  her.  He  was  mov 
ing  about  restlessly,  first  in  one  office,  then  in  the 
other,  and  she  could  feel  his  bright  inquisitive  eyes 
upon  her  from  different  angles.  But  she  kept  her 
face  averted,  changing  her  position  as  he  changed 
his.  Presently  he  came  to  a  halt  near  her  and  be 
gan  softly  to  whistle  the  little-bear  dance  from  the 
"  Rag-Time  Follies."  She  smiled  before  she  knew 
it,  and  the  next  instant  he  was  perched  on  the  cor 
ner  of  her  desk,  demanding  rapturously  to  know 
what  she  was  doing  there,  and  swearing  that  he 
had  recognized  her  the  moment  he  entered  the  room. 

"  Let  go  my  hand,  Mr.  Mac !  "  she  implored  in 
laughing  confusion. 

"  I  'm  afraid  to !  You  might  give  me  the  slip 
again.  I  've  been  scouring  the  town  for  you  and 
to  think  I  should  find  you  here !  " 

"Look  out!"  warned  Nance.  "You're  upset 
ting  the  ink-bottle !  " 

"  What  do  I  care?  Gee,  this  is  luck !  You  ought 
to  see  my  new  racer,  a  regular  peach!  Will  you 
come  out  with  me  sometime?  " 

"Will  you  let  me  run  it?" 

"  I  '11  let  you  do  anything  you  like  with  anything 


300  CALVARY  ALLEY 

I  've  got,"  he  declared  with  such  ardor  that  she 
laughed  and  regretted  it  the  next  moment. 

"  Now  look  here,  Mr.  Mac!  "  she  said,  severely, 
"  you  touch  me  again,  and  I  quit  to-night.  See?  " 

"  I  '11  be  good.  I  '11  do  anything  you  say  if  you  '11 
just  stay  and  play  with  me." 

"  Play  nothing!     I  've  got  work  to  do." 

"  Work  be  hanged !  Do  you  suppose  when  I 
have  n't  seen  you  for  four  months  that  I  'm  not  go 
ing  to  claim  my  inning?  " 

"  Well,  I  want  to  tell  you  right  here,"  she  said, 
shaking  a  warning  pencil  in  his  face,  "  that  I  mean 
what  I  say  about  your  behaving  yourself." 

Mac  caught  the  end  of  the  pencil  and  held  it  while 
their  eyes  challenged  each  other. 

"  So  be  it !  "  he  said.  "  I  promise  to  be  a  model 
of  discretion.  Nance,  I've  been  mad  about  you! 
Did  Monte  tell  you  — " 

"  Mr.  Monte  did  n't  tell  me  anything  I  wanted  to 
hear,"  she  said  in  her  cool,  keen  way,  as  she  got 
the  imperiled  ink-well  to  a  place  of  safety,  and 
straightened  the  other  articles  on  the  desk. 

"You  wouldn't  be  so  down  on  a  fellow  if  you 
knew  how  hard  hit  I  am,"  persisted  Mac.  "  Be 
sides,  I  'm  in  for  an  awful  row  with  the  governor. 
You  may  see  my  scalp  fly  past  the  window  in  less 
than  ten  minutes." 

"  What 's  the  row  about  ?  " 

"  Same  old  thing.     I  am  the  original  devil   for 


BACK  AT  CLARKE'S  301 

getting  found  out."  For  the  space  of  a  minute  he 
gloomily  contemplated  a  spot  in  the  carpet;  then  he 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  rammed  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  and  began  to  whistle. 

"  The  governor  '11  fork  out,"  he  said.  "  He  al 
ways  does.  Say,  Nance,  you  have  n't  said  a  word 
about  my  moustache." 

"  Let 's  see  it,"  said  Nance  in  giggling  derision. 
"  Looks  like  a  baby's  eyebrow.  Does  it  wash  off  ?  " 

A  step  in  the  hall  sent  them  flying  in  opposite  di 
rections,  Nance  back  to  her  desk,  and  Mac  into  the 
inner  office,  where  his  father  found  him  a  moment 
later,  apparently  absorbed  in  a  pamphlet  on  factory 
inspection. 

When  Nance  started  home  at  six  o'clock,  she 
found  Dan  waiting  at  his  old  post  beside  the  gas- 
pipe. 

"  It 's  like  old  times,"  he  said  happily,  as  he  piloted 
her  through  the  out-pouring  throng.  "  I  remember 
the  first  night  we  walked  home  together.  You 
were  n't  much  more  than  a  kid.  You  had  on  a  red 
cap  with  a  tassel  to  it.  Three  years  ago  the  tenth 
of  last  May.  Would  n't  think  it,  would  you?  " 

"  Think  what?  "  she  asked  absently. 

"Tired?"  he  asked  anxiously.  "Is  the  work 
going  to  be  too  heavy  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head  impatiently. 

"  No,  the  work  's  all  right.  But  —  but  I  wish 
you  had  n't  made  me  come  back,  Dan." 


302  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  Stick  it  out  for  a  week,"  he  urged,  "  and  then 
if  you  want  to  stop,  I  won't  say  a  word." 

She  looked  up  at  him  quizzically  and  gave  a  short 
enigmatic  laugh. 

"  That 's  my  trouble,"  she  said,  "  if  I  stick  it  out 
for  a  week,  I  won't  be  wanting  to  quit ! " 


CHAPTER  XXV 

MAC 

NANCE'S  prophecy  regarding  herself  was  more 
than  fulfilled.  Whatever  scruples  had  as 
sailed  her  at  the  start  were  soon  overthrown  by  the 
on-rushing  course  of  events.  That  first  month  in 
Mr.  Clarke's  office  proved  to  be  a  time  of  delightful 
madness.  There  were  daily  meetings  with  Mac  at 
the  noon  hour,  stolen  chats  on  street  corners,  thrill 
ing  suppers  with  him  and  Monte  at  queer  cafes,  and 
rides  after  dark  in  that  wonderful  racer  that  proved 
the  most  enticing  of  playthings. 

Dan  was  as  busy  as  Mac  was  idle ;  Mr.  Clarke  was 
gloomy  and  preoccupied;  Mrs.  Snawdor  was  in  bed 
when  Nance  left  home  in  the  morning,  and  gone 
to  work  when  she  returned  in  the  evening.  The 
days  flashed  by  in  a  glorious  succession  of  forbidden 
joys,  with  nobody  to  interrupt  the  furious  progress 
of  affairs. 

Half  of  her  salary  Nance  gave  to  her  stepmother, 
and  the  other  half  she  spent  on  clothes.  She  bought 
with  taste  and  discrimination,  measuring  everything 
by  the  standard  set  up  by  her  old  idol,  Miss  Stanley 
at  Forest  Home.  The  result  was  that  she  soon  be- 

303 


304  CALVARY  ALLEY 

gan  to  look  very  much  like  the  well-dressed  women 
with  whom  she  touched  elbows  on  the  avenue. 

She  had  indeed  got  the  bit  between  her  teeth,  and 
she  ran  at  full  tilt,  secure  in  the  belief  that  she  had 
full  control  of  the  situation.  As  long  as  she  gave 
satisfaction  in  her  work,  she  told  herself,  and  "  be 
haved  right,"  she  could  go  and  come  as  she  liked,  and 
nobody  would  be  the  worse  for  it. 

She  did  not  realize  that  her  scoffing  disbelief  in 
Mac's  avowals,  and  her  gay  indifference  were  the 
very  things  that  kept  him  at  fever  heat.  He  was 
not  used  to  being  thwarted,  and  this  high-handed 
little  working-girl,  with  her  challenging  eyes  and 
mocking  laugh,  who  had  never  heard  of  the  pro 
prieties,  and  yet  denied  him  favors,  was  the  first  per 
son  he  had  ever  known  who  refused  absolutely  to 
let  him  have  his  own  way.  With  a  boy's  impetuous 
desire  he  became  obsessed  by  the  idea  of  her. 
When  he  was  not  with  her,  he  devised  schemes  to 
remind  her  of  him,  making  love  to  her  by  proxy  in  a 
dozen  foolish,  whimsical  ways.  WThen  it  was  not 
flowers  or  candy,  it  was  a  string  of  nonsense  verses 
laid  between  the  pages  of  her  type-writer  paper, 
sometimes  a  clever  caricature  of  himself  or  Monte, 
and  always  it  was  love  notes  in  the  lining  of  her  hat, 
in  her  gloves,  in  her  pocket-book.  She  was  afraid 
to  raise  her  umbrella  for  fear  a  rain  of  tender  mis 
sives  would  descend  therefrom.  Once  he  gave  her 
a  handsome  jeweled  bracelet  which  she  wore  under 


MAC  305 

her  sleeve.  But  he  got  hard  up  before  the  week  was 
over  and  borrowed  it  back  and  pawned  it. 

Of  two  things  Nance  succeeded  in  keeping  him  in 
ignorance.  During  all  their  escapades  he  never  dis 
covered  where  she  lived,  and  he  never  suspected  her 
friendship  for  Dan  Lewis.  He  was  not  one  to  con 
cern  himself  with  troublesome  details.  The  pleasure 
of  the  passing  moment  was  his  sole  aim  in  life. 

And  Nance,  who  ordinarily  scorned  subterfuge 
and  hated  a  secret,  succeeded  not  only  in  keeping  him 
in  ignorance  of  Dan ;  but  with  even  greater  strategy 
managed  to  keep  Dan  in  complete  ignorance  of  the 
whole  situation.  Dan,  to  be  sure,  took  his  un 
conscious  revenge.  His  kind,  puzzled  eyes  haunted 
her  dreams,  and  the  thought  of  him  proved  the  one 
disturbing  element  in  these  halcyon  days.  In  vain 
she  told  herself  that  he  was  an  old  fogy,  that  he  had 
Sunday-school  notions,  that  he  would  n't  be  able  to 
see  anything  but  wrong  in  a  harmless  flirtation  that 
would  end  with  Mac's  return  to  college.  But  would 
it  end?  That  was  a  question  Nance  was  begin 
ning  to  ask  herself  with  curious  misgiving. 

The  last  of  the  month  rolled  round  with  incred 
ible  swiftness.  It  brought  to  Nance  not  only  an  end 
to  all  her  good  times,  but  the  disheartening  knowl 
edge  that  she  would  soon  be  out  of  employment 
again  with  no  money  saved,  and  under  the  self- 
imposed  necessity  of  making  a  clean  breast  of  her 
misdeeds  to  Dan  Lewis. 


306  CALVARY  ALLEY 

On  the  Saturday  before  Mac's  intended  departure, 
as  she  sat  at  her  desk  ruefully  facing  the  situation, 
he  rushed  into  the  office. 

"  Has  a  mean-looking  little  Jew  been  in  here  this 
morning?  "  he  demanded  breathlessly. 

"  Nobody  's  been  here,"  said  Nance. 

"Gloree!"  said  Mac,  collapsing  into  a  chair. 
"  He  gave  me  a  scare!  Wonder  if  he  'phoned!  " 

"  Mr.  Clarke  's  been  out  all  morning.  These  are 
the  people  who  called  up." 

Mac  ran  his  eye  hurriedly  down  the  list  and  sighed 
with  relief.  Then  he  got  up  and  went  to  the  win 
dow  and  stood  restlessly  tapping  the  pane. 

"  I  've  a  good  notion  to  go  East  to-night,"  he  said, 
half  to  himself,  "  no  use  waiting  until  Monday." 

Nance  glanced  at  him  quickly. 

"  What 's  up?  "  she  asked. 

"  Money,  as  usual,"  said  Mac  in  an  aggrieved 
tone.  "  Just  let  me  get  ready  to  leave  town,  and  fel 
lows  I  never  heard  of  turn  up  with  bills.  I  could 
stand  off  the  little  fellows,  but  Meyers  is  making  no 
end  of  a  stew.  He  holds  a  note  of  mine  for  five 
hundred  and  sixty  dollars.  It  was  due  yesterday, 
and  he  swore  that  if  I  did  n't  smoke  up  by  noon  to 
day,  he  'd  come  to  the  governor." 

"  Won't  he  give  you  an  extension?  " 

"  He  's  given  me  two  already.  It 's  the  money  I 
lost  last  spring  at  the  races.  That 's  the  reason  I 
can't  get  it  out  of  the  governor.  It  looks  as  if  it 


MAC  307 

were  about  time  for  little  Willie  to  take  to  the  tall 
timbers." 

Nance  got  up  from  her  desk  and  joined  him  at 
the  window.  There  was  something  she  had  been 
burning  to  say  to  him  for  ten  days,  but  it  was  some 
thing  she  found  it  very  hard  tg  say.  He  might  tell 
her  it  was  none  of  her  business;  he  might  even  not 
like  her  any  more. 

"  See  here,  Mr.  Mac,"  she  said,  bracing  herself 
for  the  ordeal,  "  did  it  ever  strike  you  that  you 
spend  a  lot  of  money  that  don't  belong  to  you?  " 

"  It  '11  all  be  mine  some  day,"  said  Mac  reassur 
ingly.  "  If  the  governor  would  listen  to  mother, 
we  'd  never  have  these  financial  rackets.  She  knows 
that  it  takes  a  lot  for  a  fellow  to  live  right." 

"  It  takes  a  lot  more  for  him  to  live  wrong,"  said 
Nance,  stoutly.  "  You  get  a  whacking  big  allow 
ance  ;  when  you  get  to  the  end  of  it,  why  don't  you 
do  like  some  of  the  rest  of  us  —  go  without  the 
things  you  can't  pay  for?  " 

"  I  am  going  to,"  said  Mac  as  if  the  idea  was  a 
new  one.  "  Once  I  get  squared  up,  you  bet  I  '11  stay 
so.  But  that  does  n't  help  me  out  of  this  mess. 
The  money  has  got  to  come  from  somewhere,  and  I 
tell  you  I  have  n't  got  a  sou !  " 

Nance  had  never  seen  him  so  perturbed.  He 
usually  approached  these  conflicts  with  his  father 
with  a  passing  grimace,  exhibited  sufficient  repent 
ance  to  get  what  he  wanted,  and  emerged  more 


308  CALVARY  ALLEY 

debonair  than  ever.  It  was  disturbing  to  see  him  so 
serious  and  preoccupied. 

"  I  bet  your  father  'd  help  you  if  he  thought  you  'd 
make  a  new  start,"  she  said. 

Mac  shook  his  head. 

"  He  would  have  a  month  ago.  But  he  's  got  it 
in  for  me  now.  He  believes  an  idiotic  story  that 
was  cocked  up  about  me,  and  he  's  just  waiting  for 
my  next  slip  to  spring  a  mine  on  me.  I  got  to  keep 
him  from  finding  out  until  I  'm  gone ;  that 's  all 
there  is  to  it !  " 

He  fumbled  in  his  pocket  for  a  match  and  instead 
drew  out  a  bank-note. 

"  By  George !  here  's  a  lonesome  five-spot  I  did  n't 
know  I  had !  I  believe  I  '11  play  it  on  the  races  and 
see  what  it  '11  do  for  me.  Maybe  it 's  a  mascot." 

His  momentary  depression  was  gone,  and  he  was 
eager  to  be  off.  But  Nance  stood  between  him  and 
the  door,  and  there  was  a  dangerous  light  in  her 
eyes. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "  I  've  a  good  mind  to 
tell  you  what  I  think  of  you?  " 

He  caught  her  hand.  "  Do,  Nance !  And  make 
it  nice.  It 's  going  to  be  no  end  of  a  grind  to  leave 
you.  Say  something  pretty  that  I  can  live  on  'til 
Christmas.  Tell  me  I  'm  the  sweetest  fellow  that 
ever  lived.  Go  on.  Make  love  to  me,  Nance !  " 

"  I  think  you  are  a  short-sport !  "  she  burst  forth. 
"  Any  fellow  that  '11  go  on  making  debts  when  he 


MAC  309 

can't  pay  his  old  ones,  that  '11  get  things  in  a  muddle 
and  run  off  and  let  somebody  else  face  the  racket  is 
a  coward  —  I  think  — " 

"  Help !  Help !  "  cried  Mac,  throwing  up  an  arm 
in  pretended  defense,  and  laughing  at  her  flashing 
eyes  and  blazing  cheeks.  "  By  jinks,  I  don't  know 
whether  you  look  prettiest  when  you  are  mad  or 
when  you  are  glad.  If  you  don't  stop  this  minute 
I  '11  have  to  kiss  you !  " 

The  anger  in  Nance's  face  faded  into  exaspera 
tion.  She  felt  suddenly  hot  and  uncomfortable  and 
a  little  ashamed  of  her  violence.  She  had  neither 
offended  him  nor  humiliated  him;  she  had  simply 
amused  him.  Tears  of  chagrin  sprang  to  her  eyes, 
and  she  turned  away  abruptly. 

"  Nance !  "  Mac  demanded,  with  quick  concern, 
"you  surely  aren't  crying?  Why  the  very  idea! 
It  makes  me  perfectly  miserable  to  see  girls  cry. 
You  must  n't,  you  know.  Look  at  me,  Nance ! 
Smile  at  me  this  minute !  " 

But  Nance's  head  was  down  on  her  desk,  and  she 
was  past  smiling. 

"  I  '11  do  anything  you  say !  "  cried  Mac,  drop 
ping  on  his  knees  beside  her.  "  I  '11  'fess  up  to  the 
governor.  I  '11  go  on  the  water-wagon.  I  '11  cut 
out  the  races.  I  '11  be  a  regular  little  tin  god  if 
you  '11  only  promise  to  be  good  to  me." 

"Good  to  you  nothing!"  said  Nance,  savagely, 
lifting  a  tear-stained,  earnest  face.  "  What  right 


310  CALVARY  ALLEY 

have  I  got  to  be  anything  to  you?  Have  n't  I  been 
letting  you  spend  the  money  on  me  that  was  n't 
yours  ?  I  've  been  as  bad  as  you  have,  every  bit." 

"  Oh,  rot !  "  said  Mac,  hotly.  "  You  've  been  an 
angel.  There  is  n't  another  girl  in  the  world  that 's 
as  much  fun  as  you  are  and  yet  on  the  square  every 
minute." 

"It  isn't  on  the  square!"  contradicted  Xance, 
twisting  her  wet  handkerchief  into  a  ball.  "  Sneak 
ing  around  corners  and  doing  things  on  the  sly.  I 
am  ashamed  to  tell  you  where  I  live,  or  who  my 
people  are,  and  you  are  ashamed  to  have  your  fam 
ily  know  you  are  going  with  me.  Whenever  I  look 
at  your  father  and  see  him  worrying  about  you,  or 
think  of  your  mother  — 

"  Yes,  you  think  of  everybody  but  me.  You  hold 
me  at  arm's  length  and  knock  on  me  and  say  things 
to  me  that  nobody  else  would  dare  to  say !  And  the 
worse  you  treat  me,  the  more  I  want  to  take  you  in 
my  arms  and  run  away  with  you.  Can't  you  love 
me  a  little,  Nance  ?  Please !  " 

He  was  close  to  her,  with  his  ardent  face  on  a 
level  with  hers.  He  was  never  more  irresistible 
than  when  he  wanted  something,  especially  a  for 
bidden  something,  and  in  the  course  of  his  twenty- 
one  years  he  had  never  wanted  anything  so  much 
as  he  wanted  Nance  Molloy. 

She  caught  her  breath  and  looked  away.  It  was 
very  hard  to  say  what  she  intended,  with  him  so 


MAC  311 

close  to  her.  His  eloquent  eyes,  his  tremulous  lips 
were  very  disconcerting. 

"  Mr.  Mac,"  she  whispered  intently,  "  why  don't 
you  tell  your  father  everything,  and  promise  him 
some  of  the  things  you  been  promising  me?  Why 
don't  you  make  a  clean  start  and  behave  yourself 
and  stop  giving  'em  all  this  trouble  ?  " 

"  And  if  I  do,  Nance?  Suppose  I  do  it  for  you, 
what  then?" 

For  a  long  moment  their  eyes  held  each  other. 
These  two  young,  undisciplined  creatures  who  had 
started  life  at  opposite  ends  of  the  social  ladder,  one 
climbing  up  and  the  other  climbing  down,  had  met 
midway,  and  the  fate  of  each  trembled  in  the  bal 
ance. 

"  And  if  I  do?  "  Mac  persisted,  hardly  above  his 
breath. 

Nance's  eyelids  fluttered  ever  so  slightly,  and  the 
next  instant,  Mac  had  crushed  her  to  him  and 
smothered  her  protests  in  a  passion  of  kisses. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

BETWEEN    TWO    FIRES 

WHEN  Mr.  Clarke  returned  from  luncheon,  it 
was  evident  that  he  was  in  no  mood  to  en 
courage  a  prodigal's  repentance.  For  half  an  hour 
Nance  heard  his  voice  rising  and  falling  in  angry 
accusation;  then  a  door  slammed,  and  there  was 
silence.  She  waited  tensely  for  the  next  sound,  but 
it  was  long  in  coming.  Presently  some  one  began 
talking  over  the  telephone  in  low,  guarded  tones,  and 
she  could  not  be  sure  which  of  the  two  it  was. 
Then  the  talking  ceased ;  the  hall  door  of  the  inner 
office  opened  and  closed  quietly. 

Nance  went  to  the  window  and  saw  Mac  emerge 
from  the  passage  below  and  hurry  across  the  yard 
to  the  stables.  His  cap  was  over  his  eyes,  and  his 
hands  were  deep  in  his  pockets.  Evidently  he  had 
had  it  out  with  his  father  and  was  going  to  stay  over 
and  meet  his  difficulties.  Her  eyes  grew  tender  as 
she  watched  him.  What  a  spoiled  boy  he  was,  in 
spite  of  his  five  feet  eleven!  Always  getting  into 
scrapes  and  letting  other  people  get  him  out!  But 
he  was  going  to  face  the  music  this  time,  and  he 
was  doing  it  for  her!  If  only  she  hadn't  let  him 

312 


BETWEEN  TWO  FIRES  313 

kiss  her !  A  wave  of  shame  made  her  bury  her  hot 
cheeks  in  her  palms. 

She  was  startled  from  her  reverie  by  a  noise  at 
the  door.  It  was  Dan  Lewis,  looking  strangely 
worried  and  preoccupied. 

"  Hello,  Nance,"  he  said,  without  lifting  his  eyes. 
"  Did  Mr.  Clarke  leave  a  telegram  for  me?  " 

"  Not  with  me.  Perhaps  it  is  on  his  table. 
Want  me  to  see? " 

"  No,  I  '11  look,"  Dan  answered  and  went  in  and 
closed  the  door  behind  him. 

Nance  looked  at  the  closed  door  in  sudden  appre 
hension.  What  was  the  matter  with  Dan?  What 
had  he  found  out  ?  She  heard  him  moving  about  in 
the  empty  room ;  then  she  heard  him  talking  over  the 
telephone.  When  he  came  out,  he  crossed  over  to 
where  she  was  sitting. 

"  Nance,"  he  began,  still  with  that  uneasy  man 
ner,  "  there  's  something  I  've  got  to  speak  to  you 
about.  You  won't  take  it  amiss?  " 

"  Cut  loose,"  said  Nance,  with  an  attempt  at 
lightness,  but  her  heart  began  to  thump  uncomfort 
ably. 

"  You  see,"  Dan  began  laboriously.  "  I  'm  sort 
of  worried  by  some  talk  that 's  been  going  on  'round 
the  factory  lately.  It  had  n't  come  direct  to  me  un 
til  to-day,  but  I  got  wind  of  it  every  now  and  then. 
I  know  it 's  not  true,  but  it  must  n't  go  on.  There  's 
one  way  to  stop  it.  Do  you  know  what  it  is  ?  " 


314  CALVARY  ALLEY 

Nance  shook  her  head,  and  he  went  on. 

"  You  and  I  have  been  making  a  mess  of  things 
lately.  Maybe  it 's  been  my  fault,  I  don't  know. 
You  see  a  fellow  gets  to  know  a  lot  of  things  a  nice 
girl  don't  know.  And  the  carnival  ball  business  — 
well  —  I  was  scared  for  you,  Nance,  and  that 's  the 
plain  truth." 

"  I  know,  Dan,"  she  said  impatiently.  "  I  was  a 
fool  to  go  that  time,  but  I  never  did  it  again." 

Dan  fingered  the  papers  on  the  desk. 

"  I  ain't  going  to  rag  about  that  any  more.  But 
I  can't  have  'em  saying  things  about  you  around  the 
factory.  You  know  how  I  feel  about  you  —  how  I 
always  have  felt  —  Nance  I  want  you  to  marry  me." 

Nance  flashed  a  look  at  him,  questioning,  eager, 
uncertain  ;  then  her  eyes  fell.  How  could  she  know 
that  behind  his  halting  sentences  a  p;ean  of  love  was 
threatening  to  burst  the  very  confines  of  his  inartic 
ulate  soul  ?  She  only  saw  an  awkward  young  work 
man  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  with  a  smudge  across  his 
cheek  and  a  wistful  look  in  his  eyes,  who  knew  no 
more  about  making  love  than  he  knew  about  the 
other  graces  of  life. 

"  I  've  saved  enough  money,"  he  went  on  ear 
nestly,  "  to  buy  a  little  house  in  the  country  some 
where.  That 's  what  you  wanted,  was  n't  it?  " 

Nance's  glance  wandered  to  the  tall  gas-pipe  that 
had  been  their  unromantic  trysting  place.  Then  she 
closed  her  eyes  and  pressed  her  fingers  against  them 


BETWEEN  TWO  FIRES  315 

to  keep  back  the  stinging  tears.  If  Dan  loved  her, 
why  did  n't  he  say  beautiful  things  to  her,  why 
did  n't  he  take  her  in  his  arms  as  Mac  had  done,  and 
kiss  away  all  those  fears  of  herself  and  of  the  fu 
ture  that  crowded  upon  her  ?  With  her  head  on  his 
shoulder  she  could  have  sobbed  out  her  whole  con 
fession  and  been  comforted,  but  now  — 

"You  care  for  me,  don't  you,  Nance?"  Dan 
asked  with  a  sharp  note  of  anxiety  in  his  voice. 

"  Of  course  I  care!  "  she  said  irritably.  "  But  I 
don't  want  to  get  married  and  settle  down.  I  want 
to  get  out  and  see  the  world.  When  you  talk  about 
a  quiet  little  house  in  the  country,  I  want  to  smash 
every  window  in  it!  " 

Dan  slipped  the  worn  drawing  he  had  in  his  hand 
back  into  his  pocket.  It  was  no  time  to  discuss 
honeysuckle  porches. 

"  We  don't  have  to  go  to  the  country,"  he  said 
patiently.  "  I  just  thought  it  was  what  you  wanted. 
We  can  stay  here,  or  we  can  go  to  another  town  if 
you  like.  All  I  want  is  to  make  you  happy,  Nance." 

For  a  moment  she  sat  with  her  chin  on  her  palms, 
staring  straight  ahead ;  then  she  turned  toward  him 
with  sudden  resolution. 

"  What 's  the  talk  you  been  hearing  about  me  ?  " 
she  demanded. 

'  There  's  no  use  going  into  that,"  he  said.  "  It 's 
a  lie,  and  I  mean  to  stamp  it  out  if  I  have  to  lick 
every  man  in  the  factory  to  do  it." 


316  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  Was  it  —  about  Mac  Clarke  ?  " 

"  Who  dared  bring  it  to  you?  "  he  asked  fiercely. 

"  What  are  they  saying,  Dan  ?  " 

"  That  you  been  seen  out  with  him  on  the  street, 
that  you  ride  with  him  after  night,  and  that  he  comes 
down  here  every  day  at  the  noon  hour  to  see  you." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"Ain't  it  enough?  " 

"  Well,  it 's  true !  "  said  Nance,  defiantly.  "  Ev 
ery  word  of  it.  If  anybody  can  find  any  real  harm 
in  what  I  've  done,  they  are  welcome  to  it!  " 

"It's  true?"  gasped  Dan,  his  hands  gripping  a 
chair-back.  "  And  you  never  told  me  ?  Has  he  — 
has  he  made  love  to  you,  Nance?  " 

"  Why,  he  makes  love  to  everybody.  He  makes 
love  to  his  mother  when  he  wants  to  get  something 
out  of  her.  What  he  says  goes  in  one  ear  and  out 
the  other  with  me.  But  I  like  him  and  I  ain't 
ashamed  to  say  so.  He  's  give  me  the  best  time  I 
ever  had  in  my  life,  and  you  bet  I  don't  forget  it." 

"Will  you  answer  me  one  thing  more?"  de 
manded  Dan,  sternly. 

"  Yes;  I  ain't  afraid  to  answer  any  question  you 
can  ask." 

"  Was  it  Clarke  that  took  you  to  the  carnival 
ball?" 

"  Him  and  a  fellow  named  Monte  Pearce." 

"  Just  you  three  ?  " 

"  No;  Birdie  Smelts  was  along." 


BETWEEN  TWO  FIRES  317 

Dan  brushed  his  hand  across  his  brow  as  if  trying 
to  recall  something. 

"  Birdie  come  here  that  day,"  he  said  slowly. 
"  She  wanted  to  see  Clarke  for  a  friend  of  hers. 
Nance  did  he  —  did  he  ever  ask  you  to  kiss  him?  " 

"  Yes." 

Dan  groaned. 

"  Why  did  n't  you  tell  me  all  this  before,  Nance? 
Why  did  n't  you  give  me  a  chance  to  put  you  on 
your  guard  ?  " 

"  I  was  on  my  guard ! "  she  cried,  with  rising 
anger.  "  I  don't  need  anybody  to  take  care  of  me !  " 

But  Dan  was  too  absorbed  in  his  own  thoughts 
to  heed  her. 

"  It 's  a  good  thing  he  's  going  away  in  a  couple 
of  days,"  he  said  grimly.  "If  ever  the  blackguard 
writes  to  you,  or  dares  to  speak  to  you  again  — " 

Nance  had  risen  and  was  facing  him. 

"  Who  's  to  stop  him  ?  "  she  asked  furiously. 
"  I  'm  the  one  to  say  the  word,  and  not  you !  " 

"  And  you  won't  let  me  take  it  up  with  him?  " 

"No!" 

"  And  you  mean  to  see  him  again,  and  to  write  to 
him?" 

Nance  had  a  blurred  vision  of  an  unhappy  prodi 
gal  crossing  the  factory  yard.  He  had  kept  his  part 
of  their  compact ;  she  must  keep  hers. 

"  I  will  if  I  want  to,"  she  said  rather  weakly. 

Dan's  face  flushed  crimson. 


318  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  All  right,"  he  said,  "  keep  it  up  if  you  like.  But 
I  tell  you  now,  I  ain't  going  to  stay  here  to  see  it. 
I  'm  going  to  clear  out !  " 

He  turned  toward  the  door,  and  she  called  after 
him  anxiously : 

"  Dan,  come  back  here  this  minute.  Where  are 
you  going?  " 

He  paused  in  the  doorway,  his  jaw  set  and  a 
steady  light  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  am  going  now,"  he  said,  "  to  apologize  to  the 
man  I  hit  yesterday  for  telling  the  truth  about  you  !  " 

That  night  Nance  shed  more  tears  than  she  had 
ever  shed  in  the  whole  course  of  her  life  before;  but 
whether  she  wept  for  Mac,  or  Dan,  or  for  herself, 
she  could  not  have  said.  She  heard  the  sounds  die 
out  of  the  alley  one  by  one,  the  clanging  cars  at  the 
end  of  the  street  became  less  frequent;  only  the 
drip,  drip,  drip  from  a  broken  gutter  outside  her 
window,  and  the  rats  in  the  wall  kept  her  com 
pany.  All  day  Sunday  she  stayed  in-doors,  and 
came  to  the  office  on  Monday  pale  and  a  bit  listless. 

Early  as  it  was,  Mr.  Clarke  was  there  before  her, 
pacing  the  floor  in  evident  perturbation. 

"  Come  in  here  a  moment,  Miss  Molloy,"  he  said, 
before  she  had  taken  off  her  hat.  "  I  want  a  word 
with  you." 

Nance  followed  him  into  the  inner  room  with  a 
quaking  heart. 

"  I  want  you  to  tell  me,"  he  said,  waiving  all  pre- 


BETWEEN  TWO  FIRES  319 

liminaries,  "  just  who  was  in  this  room  Saturday 
afternoon  after  I  left." 

"  Dan  Lewis.  And.  of  course,  Mr.  Mac.  You 
left  him  here." 

"Who  else?" 

"  Nobody." 

"  But  there  must  have  been,"  insisted  Mr.  Clarke, 
vehemently.  "  A  man,  giving  my  name,  called  up 
our  retail  store  between  two  and  two-thirty  o'clock, 
and  asked  if  they  could  cash  a  check  for  several  hun 
dred  dollars.  He  said  it  was  too  late  to  go  to  the 
bank,  and  he  wanted  the  money  right  away.  Later 
a  messenger  brought  my  individual  check,  torn  out 
of  this  check-book,  which  evidently  has  n't  been  off 
my  desk,  and  received  the  money.  The  cashier 
thought  the  signature  looked  queer  and  called  me  up 
yesterday.  I  intend  to  leave  no  stone  unturned  until 
I  get  at  the  truth  of  the  matter.  You  were  the  only 
person  here  all  afternoon.  Tell  me,  in  detail,  ex 
actly  what  happened." 

Nance  recalled  as  nearly  as  she  could,  the  incidents 
of  the  afternoon,  with  careful  circuits  around  her 
own  interviews  with  Mac  and  Dan. 

"  Could  any  one  have  entered  the  inner  office  be 
tween  their  visits,  without  your  knowing  it?  "  asked 
Mr.  Clarke,  who  was  following  her  closely. 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir ;  only  there  was  n't  time.  You  see 
Mr.  Mac  was  just  going  out  the  factory  yard  as  Dan 
come  in  here." 


320  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  Did  either  of  them  use  my  telephone?  " 

"  Both  of  them  used  it." 

"  Could  you  hear  what  was  said?  " 

"  No;  the  door  was  shut  both  times." 

"  Did  Lewis  enter  through  the  other  room,  or 
through  the  hall  ?  " 

"  He  come  through  the  other  room  and  asked  me 
if  you  had  left  a  telegram  for  him." 

"  Then  he  came  in  here?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Mr.  Clarke's  brows  were  knitted  in  perplexity. 
He  took  up  the  telephone. 

"  Send  Lewis  up  here  to  my  office,"  he  directed. 
"What?  Hasn't  come  in  yet?"  he  repeated  in 
credulously.  "  That 's  strange,"  he  said  grimly, 
half  to  himself.  "  The  first  time  I  ever  knew  him 
to  be  late." 

Something  seemed  to  tighten  suddenly  about 
Nance's  heart.  Could  it  be  possible  that  Mr.  Clarke 
was  suspecting  Dan  of  signing  that  check?  She 
watched  his  nervous  hands  as  they  ran  over  the 
morning  mail.  He  had  singled  out  one  letter  and, 
as  he  finished  reading  it,  he  handed  it  to  her. 

It  was  from  Dan,  a  brief  business-like  resigna 
tion,  expressing  appreciation  of  Mr.  Clarke's  kind 
ness,  regret  at  the  suddenness  of  his  departure,  and 
giving  as  his  reason  private  affairs  that  took  him 
permanently  to  another  city. 

When  Nance  lifted  her  startled  eyes  from  the 


BETWEEN  TWO  FIRES  321 

signature,  she  saw  that  Mr.  Clarke  was  closely 
scrutinizing  the  writing  on  the  envelope. 

"  It 's  incredible!  "  he  said,  "  and  yet  the  circum 
stances  are  most  suspicious.  He  gives  no  real 
reason  for  leaving." 

"  I  can,"  said  Nance,  resolutely.  "  He  wanted  me 
to  marry  him,  and  I  would  n't  promise.  He  asked 
me  Saturday  afternoon,  after  he  come  out  of  here. 
We  had  a  quarrel,  and  he  said  he  was  going  away ; 
but  I  did  n't  believe  it." 

"  Did  he  ask  you  to  go  away  with  him  ?  Out  of 
town  anywhere  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  he  said  he  would  go  anywhere  I  said." 

A  flash  of  anger  burnt  out  the  look  of  fear  that 
had  been  lurking  in  Mr.  Clarke's  face. 

"  He  's  the  last  man  I  would  have  suspected !  Of 
course  I  knew  he  had  been  in  a  reformatory  at  one 
time,  but  — " 

The  band  that  had  been  tightening  around 
Nance's  heart  seemed  suddenly  to  burst.  She 
sprang  to  her  feet  and  stood  confronting  him  with 
blazing  eyes. 

"  What  right  have  you  got  to  think  Dan  did  it  ? 
There  were  two  of  them  in  this  room.  Why  don't 
you  send  for  Mr.  Mac  and  ask  him  questions  ?  " 

"  Well,  for  one  reason  he  's  in  New  York,  and 
for  another,  my  son  does  n't  have  to  resort  to  such 
means  to  get  what  money  he  wants." 

"  Neither  does  Dan  Lewis !     He  was  a  street  kid; 


322  CALVARY  ALLEY 

he  was  had  up  in  court  three  times  before  he  was 
fourteen;  he  was  a  month  at  the  reformatory;  and 
he  's  knocked  elbows  with  more  crooks  than  you  ever 
heard  of;  but  you  know  as  well  as  me  that  there 
ain't  anybody  living  more  honest  than  Dan !  " 

"  All  he  's  got  to  do  is  to  prove  it,"  said  Mr. 
Clarke,  grimly. 

Nance  looked  at  the  relentless  face  of  the  man 
before  her  and  thought  of  the  money  at  his  com 
mand  to  prove  whatever  he  wanted  to  prove. 

"See  here,  Mr.  Clarke!"  she  said  desperately, 
"  you  said  a  while  ago  that  all  the  facts  were  against 
Dan.  Will  you  tell  me  one  thing?  " 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Did  you  give  Mr.  Mac  the  money  to  pay  that 
note  last  Saturday?  " 

"What  note?" 

"  The  one  the  Meyers  fellow  was  after  him 
about?" 

"  Mac  asked  for  no  money,  and  I  gave  him  none. 
In  fact  he  told  me  that  aside  from  his  debts  at  the 
club  and  at  the  garage,  he  owed  no  bills.  So  you 
see  your  friend  Meyers  misinformed  you." 

Here  was  Nance's  chance  to  escape ;  she  had  spo 
ken  in  Dan's  defense;  she  had  told  of  the  Meyers 
incident.  To  take  one  more  step  would  be  to  con 
vict  Mac  and  compromise  herself.  For  one  miser 
able  moment  conflicting  desires  beat  in  her  brain; 
then  she  heard  herself  saying  quite  calmly: 


BETWEEN  TWO  FIRES  323 

"  No,  sir,  it  was  n't  Meyers  that  told  me ;  it  was 
Mr.  Mac  himself." 

Mr.  Clarke  wheeled  on  her  sharply. 

"  How  did  my  son  happen  to  be  discussing  his  pri 
vate  affairs  with  you  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Mac  and  me  are  friends,"  she  said.  "  He  's 
been  awful  nice  to  me;  he  's  given  me  more  good 
times  than  I  ever  had  in  my  whole  life  before.  But 
I  did  n't  know  the  money  was  n't  his  or  I  would  n't 
have  gone  with  him." 

"  And  I  suppose  you  thought  it  was  all  right  for  a 
young  man  in  Mac's  position  to  be  paying  attention 
to  a  young  woman  in  yours  ?  " 

Mr.  Clarke  studied  her  face  intently,  but  her  fear 
less  eyes  did  not  falter  under  his  scrutiny. 

"  Are  you  trying  to  implicate  Mac  in  this  matter 
to  spare  Lewis,  is  that  it?  " 

"  No,  sir.  I  don't  say  it  was  Mr.  Mac.  I  only 
say  it  was  n't  Dan.  There  are  some  people  you  just 
know  are  straight,  and  Dan  's  one  of  them." 

Mr.  Clarke  got  up  and  took  a  turn  about  the  room, 
his  hands  locked  behind  him.  Her  last  shot  had  ev 
idently  taken  effect. 

"  Tell  me  exactly  what  Mac  told  you  about  this 
Meyers  note,"  he  demanded. 

Nance  recounted  the  facts  in  the  case,  ending  with 
the  promise  Mac  had  made  her  to  tell  his  father 
everything  and  begin  anew. 

"  I  wish  I  had  known  this  Saturday!  "  Mr.  Clarkcj 


324  CALVARY  ALLEY 

said,  sinking  heavily  into  his  chair.  "  I  came  down 
on  the  boy  pretty  severely  on  another  score  and  gave 
him  little  chance  to  say  anything.  Did  he  happen 
to  mention  the  exact  amount  of  his  indebtedness  to 
Meyers  ?  " 

"  He  said  it  was  five  hundred  and  sixty  dollars." 

A  sigh  that  was  very  like  a  groan  escaped  from 
Mr.  Clarke;  then  he  pulled  himself  together  with 
an  effort. 

"  You  understand,  Miss  Molloy,"  he  said,  "  that 
it  is  quite  a  different  thing  for  my  son  to  have  done 
this,  and  for  Lewis  to  have  done  it.  Mac  knows 
that  what  is  mine  will  be  his  eventually.  If  he 
signed  that  check,  he  was  signing  his  own  name  as 
well  as  mine.  Of  course,  he  ought  to  have  spoken 
to  me  about  it.  I  am  not  excusing  him.  He  has 
been  indiscreet  in  this  as  well  as  in  other  ways.  I 
shall  probably  get  a  letter  from  him  in  a  few  days 
explaining  the  whole  business.  In  the  meanwhile 
the  matter  must  go  no  further.  I  insist  upon  abso 
lute  silence.  You  understand?" 

She  nodded. 

"  And  one  thing  more,"  Mr.  Clarke  added.  "  I 
forbid  any  further  communication  between  you  and 
Mac.  He  is  not  coming  home  at  Christmas,  and  we 
are  thinking  of  sending  him  abroad  in  June.  I  pro 
pose  to  keep  him  away  from  here  for  the  next  two  or 
three  years." 

Nance  fingered  the  blotter  on  the  table  absently. 


BETWEEN  TWO  FIRES  325 

It  was  all  very  well  for  them  to  plan  what  they  were 
going  to  do  with  Mac,  but  she  knew  in  her  heart 
that  a  line  from  her  would  set  at  naught  all  their 
calculations.  Then  her  mind  flew  back  to  Dan. 

"  If  he  comes  back  —  Dan,  I  mean, —  are  you  go 
ing  to  take  him  on  again  ?  " 

Mr.  Clarke  saw  his  chance  and  seized  it. 

"  On  one  condition,"  he  said.  "  Will  you  give  me 
your  word  of  honor  not  to  communicate  with  Mac 
in  any  way  ?  " 

They  were  both  standing  now,  facing  each  other, 
and  Nance  saw  no  compromise  in  the  stern  eyes  of 
her  employer. 

"  I  '11  promise  if  I  've  got  to,"  she  said. 

"Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Clarke.  "That's  set 
tled." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

FATE   TAKES    A    HAND 

SOME  sinister  fascination  seems  to  hover  about 
a  bridge  at  night,  especially  for  unhappy  souls 
who  have  grappled  with  fate  and  think  themselves 
worsted.  Perhaps  they  find  a  melancholy  pleasure 
in  the  company  of  ghosts  who  have  escaped  from 
similar  defeats;  perhaps  they  seek  to  read  the  riddle 
of  the  universe,  as  they  stand,  elbows  on  rail,  study 
ing  the  turbulent  waters  below. 

On  the  third  night  after  Dan's  arrival  in  Cincin 
nati,  the  bridge  claimed  him.  He  had  deposited  his 
few  belongings  in  a  cheap  lodging-house  on  the 
Kentucky  side  of  the  river,  and  then  aimlessly  paced 
the  streets,  too  miserable  to  eat  or  sleep,  too  des 
perate  even  to  look  for  work.  His  one  desire  was 
to  get  away  from  his  tormenting  thoughts,  to  try  to 
forget  what  had  happened  to  him. 

A  cold  drizzle  of  rain  had  brought  dusk  on  an 
hour  before  its  time.  Twilight  was  closing  in  on 
a  sodden  day.  From  the  big  Ohio  city  to  the 
smaller  Kentucky  towns,  poured  a  stream  of  tired 
humanity.  Belated  shoppers,  business  men,  work- 

326 


FATE  TAKES  A  HAND  327 

ers  of  all  kinds  hurried  through  the  murky  soot- 
laden  air,  each  hastening  to  some  invisible  goal. 

To  Dan,  watching  with  somber  eyes  from  his 
niche  above  the  wharf,  it  seemed  that  they  were  all 
going  home  to  little  lamp-lit  cottages  where  women 
and  children  awaited  them.  A  light  in  the  window 
and  somebody  waiting!  The  old  dream  of  his  boy 
hood  that  only  a  few  days  ago  had  seemed  about  to 
come  true ! 

Instead,  he  had  been  caught  up  in  a  hurricane  and 
swept  out  to  sea.  His  anchors  had  been  his  love, 
his  work,  and  his  religion,  and  none  of  them  held. 
The  factory,  to  which  he  had  given  the  best  of  his 
brain  and  his  body,  for  which  he  had  dreamed  and 
aspired  and  planned,  was  a  nightmare  to  him.  Mrs. 
Purdy  and  the  church  activities,  which  had  loomed 
so  large  in  his  life,  were  but  fleeting,  unsubstantial 
shadows. 

Only  one  thing  in  the  wide  universe  mattered  now 
to  him,  and  that  was  Nance.  Over  and  over  he  re 
hearsed  his  final  scene  with  her,  searching  for  some 
word  of  denial  or  contrition  or  promise  for  the 
future.  She  had  never  lied  to  him,  and  he  knew 
she  never  would.  But  she  had  stood  before  him  in 
angry  defiance,  refusing  to  defend  herself,  declining 
his  help,  and  letting  him  go  out  of  her  life  without 
so  much  as  lifting  a  finger  to  stop  him. 

His  heavy  eyes,  which  had  been  following  the 
shore  lights,  came  back  to  the  bridge,  attracted  by 


328  CALVARY  ALLEY 

the  movement  of  a  woman  leaning  over  one  of  the 
embrasures  near  him.  He  had  been  vaguely  aware 
for  the  past  five  minutes  of  a  disturbing  sound  that 
came  to  him  from  time  to  time ;  but  it  was  only  now 
that  he  noticed  the  woman  was  crying.  She  was 
standing  with  her  back  to  him,  and  he  could  see  her 
lift  her  veil  every  now  and  then  and  wipe  her  eyes. 

With  a  movement  of  impatience,  he  moved  fur 
ther  on.  He  had  enough  troubles  of  his  own  to 
night  without  witnessing  those  of  others.  He  had 
determined  to  stop  fleeing  from  his  thoughts  and 
to  turn  and  face  them.  A  rich  young  fellow,  like 
Mac  Clarke,  did  n't  go  with  a  girl  like  Nance  for 
nothing.  Why,  this  thing  must  have  been  going  on 
for  months,  perhaps  long  before  the  night  he  had 
found  Nance  at  the  signal  tower.  They  had  been 
meeting  in  secret,  going  out  alone  together ;  she  had 
let  him  make  love  to  her,  kiss  her. 

The  blood  surged  into  his  head,  and  doubts  blacker 
than  the  waters  below  assailed  him,  but  even  as  he 
stood  there  with  his  head  in  his  hands  and  his  cap 
pulled  over  his  eyes,  all  sorts  of  shadowy  memories 
came  to  plead  for  her.  Memories  of  a  little,  tow- 
headed,  independent  girl  coming  and  going  in  Cal 
vary  Alley,  now  lugging  coal  up  two  flights  of  stairs, 
now  rushing  noisily  down  again  with  a  Snawdor 
baby  slung  over  her  shoulder,  now  to  snatch  her  part 
in  the  play.  Nance,  who  laughed  the  loudest,  cried 
the  hardest,  ran  the  fastest,  whose  hand  was  as  quick 


FATE  TAKES  A  HAND  329 

to  help  a  friend  as  to  strike  a  foe !  He  saw  her  sit 
ting  beside  him  on  the  mattress,  sharing  his  disgrace 
on  the  day  of  the  eviction,  saw  her  standing  before 
the  bar  of  justice  passionately  pleading  his  cause. 
Then  later  and  tenderer  memories  came  to  reinforce 
the  earlier  ones  —  memories  of  her  gaily  dismissing 
all  other  offers  at  the  factory  to  trudge  home  night 
after  night  with  him;  of  her  sitting  beside  him  in 
Post-Office  -Square,  subdued  and  tender-eyed,  watch 
ing  the  electric  lights  bloom  through  the  dusk;  of 
her  nursing  Uncle  Jed,  forgetting  herself  and  her 
disappointment  in  ministering  to  him  and  helping 
him  face  the  future. 

A  wave  of  remorse  swept  over  him !  What  right 
had  he  to  make  her  stay  on  and  on  in  Cemetery 
Street  when  he  knew  how  she  hated  it?  Why  had 
he  forced  her  to  go  back  to  the  factory?  She  had 
tried  to  make  him  understand,  but  he  had  been  deaf 
to  her  need.  He  had  expected  her  to  buckle  down 
to  work  just  as  he  did.  He  had  forgotten  that  she 
was  young  and  pretty  and  wanted  a  good  time  like 
other  girls.  Of  course  it  was  wrong  for  her  to  go 
with  Mac,  but  she  was  good,  he  knew  she  was  good. 

The  words  reverberated  in  his  brain  like  a  hollow 
echo,  frightening  away  all  the  pleading  memories. 
Those  were  the  very  words  he  had  used  about  his 
mother  on  that  other  black  night  when  he  had  re 
fused  to  believe  the  truth.  All  the  bitterness  of  his 
childhood's  tragedy  came  now  to  poison  his  present 


330  CALVARY  ALLEY 

mood.  If  Nance  was  innocent,  why  had  she  kept  all 
this  from  him,  why  had  she  refused  in  the  end  to  let 
him  defend  her  good  name? 

He  thought  of  his  own  struggle  to  be  good ;  of  his 
ceaseless  efforts  to  be  decent  in  every  thought  as  well 
as  deed  for  Nance's  sake.  Decent !  His  lip  curled 
at  the  irony  of  it !  That  was  n't  what  girls  wanted  ? 
Decency  made  fellows  stupid  and  dull ;  it  kept  them 
too  closely  at  work;  it  made  them  take  life  too  seri 
ously.  Girls  wanted  men  like  Mac  Clarke  —  men 
who  snapped  their  fingers  at  religion  and  refused 
responsibilities,  and  laughed  in  the  face  of  duty. 
Laughter!  That  was  what  Nance  loved  above  ev 
erything!  All  right,  let  her  have  it!  What  did  it 
matter?  He  would  laugh  too. 

With  a  reckless  resolve,  he  turned  up  his  coat  col 
lar,  rammed  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  started 
toward  the  Kentucky  shore.  The  drizzle  by  this 
time  had  turned  into  a  sharp  rain,  and  he  realized 
that  he  was  cold  and  wet.  He  remembered  a  swing 
ing  door  two  squares  away. 

As  he  left  the  bridge,  he  saw  the  woman  in  the 
blue  veil  hurry  past  him,  and  with  a  furtive  look 
about  her,  turn  and  go  down  the  steep  levee  toward 
the  water.  There  was  something  so  nervous  and 
erratic  in  her  movements,  that  he  stopped  to  watch 
her. 

For  a  few  moments  she  wandered  aimlessly  along 
the  bank,  apparently  indifferent  to  the  pelting  rain; 


FATE  TAKES  A  HAND  331 

then  she  succeeded,  after  some  difficulty,  in  climbing 
out  on  one  of  the  coal  barges  that  fringed  the  river 
bank. 

Dan  glanced  down  the  long  length  of  the  bridge, 
empty  now  save  for  a  few  pedestrians  and  a  lumber 
ing  truck  in  the  distance.  In  mid-stream  the  paddle 
of  a  river  steamer  was  churning  the  water  into  foam, 
and  up-stream,  near  the  dock,  negro  roustabouts 
could  be  heard  singing.  But  under  the  bridge  all 
was  silent,  and  the  levee  was  deserted  in  both  direc 
tions.  He  strained  his  eyes  to  distinguish  that 
vague  figure  on  the  barge  from  the  surrounding 
shadows.  He  saw  her  crawling  across  the  shifting 
coal ;  then  he  waited  to  see  no  more. 

Plunging  down  the  bank  at  full  speed,  he  scram 
bled  out  on  the  barge  and  seized  her  by  the  arms. 
The  struggle  was  brief,  but  fierce.  With  a  cry  of 
despair,  she  sank  face  downward  on  the  coal  and 
burst  into  hysterical  weeping. 

"  Don't  call  a  policeman !  "  she  implored  wildly. 
"  Don't  let  'em  take  me  to  a  hospital !  " 

"  I  won't.  Don't  try  to  talk  'til  you  get  hold  of 
yourself,"  said  Dan. 

"  But  I  'm  chokin' !  I  can't  breathe !  Get  the 
veil  off!" 

As  Dan  knelt  above  her,  fumbling  with  the  long 
veil,  he  noticed  for  the  first  time  that  she  was  young, 
and  that  her  bare  neck  between  the  collar  and  the 
ripple  of  her  black  hair  was  very  white  and  smooth. 


332  CALVARY  ALLEY 

He  bent  down  and  looked  at  her  with  a  flash  of 
recognition. 

"  Birdie ! "  he  cried  incredulously,  "  Birdie 
Smelts!" 

Her  heavy  white  lids  fluttered  wildly,  and  she 
started  up  in  terror. 

"  Don't  be  scared !  "  he  urged.  "  It 's  Dan  Lewis 
from  back  home.  How  did  you  ever  come  to  be  in 
this  state?" 

With  a  moan  of  despair  she  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands. 

"  I  was  up  there  on  the  bridge,"  Dan  went  on, 
almost  apologetically.  "  I  saw  you  there,  but  I 
did  n't  know  it  was  you.  Then  when  you  started 
down  to  the  water,  I  sorter  thought  — " 

"  You  ought  n't  'a'  stopped  me,"  she  wailed.  "  I 
been  walkin'  the  streets  tryin'  to  get  up  my  courage 
all  day.  I  'm  sick,  I  tell  you.  I  want  to  die." 

"  But  it  ain't  right  to  die  this  way.  Don't  you 
know  it 's  wicked  ?  " 

"  Good  and  bad  's  all  the  same  to  me.  I  'm  done 
for.  There  ain't  a  soul  in  this  rotten  old  town  that 
cares  whether  I  live  or  die !  " 

Dan  flushed  painfully.  He  was  much  more  equal 
to  saving  a  body  than  a  soul,  but  he  did  not  flinch 
from  his  duty. 

"  God  cares,"  he  said.  "  Like  as  not  He  sent  me 
out  on  the  bridge  a-purpose  to-night  to  help  you. 


FATE  TAKES  A  HAND  333 

You  let  me  put  you  on  the  train,  Birdie,  and  ship  you 
home  to  your  mother." 

"  Never !  I  ain't  goin'  home,  and  I  ain't  goin'  to 
a  hospital.  Promise  me  you  won't  let  'em  take  me, 
Dan!" 

"  All  right,  all  right,"  he  said,  with  an  anxious 
eye  on  her  shivering  form  and  her  blue  lips.  "  Only 
we  got  to  get  under  cover  somewhere.  Do  you  feel 
up  to  walking  yet  ?  " 

"  Where  'd  I  walk  to  ? "  she  demanded  bitterly. 
"  I  tell  you  I  've  got  no  money  and  no  place  to  go.  I 
been  on  the  street  since  yesterday  noon." 

"  You  can't  stay  out  here  all  night !  "  said  Dan  at 
his  wit's  end.  "  I  '11  have  to  get  you  a  room  some 
where." 

"  Go  ahead  and  get  it.     I  '11  wait  here." 

But  Dan  mistrusted  the  look  of  cunning  that 
leaped  into  her  eyes  and  the  way  she  glanced  from 
time  to  time  at  the  oily,  black  water  that  curled 
around  the  corner  of  the  barge. 

"  I  got  a  room  a  couple  of  squares  over,"  he  said 
slowly.  "  You  might  come  over  there  'til  you  get 
dried  out  and  rested  up  a  bit." 

"  I  don't  want  to  go  anywhere.  I  'm  too  sick.  I 
don't  want  to  have  to  see  people." 

"  You  won't  have  to.  It 's  a  rooming  house. 
The  old  woman  that  looks  after  things  has  gone 
by  now," 


334  CALVARY  ALLEY 

It  took  considerable  persuasion  to  get  her  on  her 
feet  and  up  the  bank.  Again  and  again  she  refused 
to  go  on,  declaring  that  she  did  n't  want  to  live. 
But  Dan's  patience  was  limitless.  Added  to  his 
compassion  for  her,  was  the  half-superstitious  belief 
that  he  had  been  appointed  by  Providence  to  save 
her. 

"  It 's  just  around  the  corner  now,"  he  encouraged 
her.  "  Can  you  make  it?  " 

She  stumbled  on  blindly,  without  answering,  cling 
ing  to  his  arm  and  breathing  heavily. 

"  Here  we  are !  "  said  Dan,  turning  into  a  dark 
entrance,  "  front  room  on  the  left.  Steady  there !  " 

But  even  as  he  opened  the  door,  Birdie  swayed 
forward  and  would  have  fallen  to  the  floor,  had  he 
not  caught  her  and  laid  her  on  the  bed. 

Hastily  lighting  the  lamp  on  the  deal  table  by  the 
window,  he  went  back  to  the  bed  and  loosened  the 
neck  of  her  dripping  coat  and  then  looked  down  at 
her  helplessly.  Her  face,  startlingly  white  in  its 
frame  of  black  hair,  showed  dark  circles  under  the 
eyes,  and  her  full  lips  had  lost  not  only  their  color, 
but  the  innocent  curves  of  childhood  as  well. 

Presently  she  opened  her  eyes  wearily  and  looked 
about  her. 

"  I  'm  cold,"  she  said  with  a  shiver,  "  and  hungry. 
God !  I  did  n't  know  anybody  could  be  so  hungry !  " 

"  I  '11  make  a  fire  in  the  stove,"  cried  Dan;  "  then 


FATE  TAKES  A  HAND  335 

I  '11  go  out  and  get  you  something  hot  to  drink. 
You  '11  feel  better  soon." 

"  Don't  be  long,  Dan,"  she  whispered  faintly. 
"  I  'm  scared  to  stay  by  myself." 

Ten  minutes  later  Dan  hurried  out  of  the  eating- 
house  at  the  corner,  balancing  a  bowl  of  steaming 
soup  in  one  hand  and  a  plate  of  food  in  the  other. 
He  was  soaked  to  the  skin,  and  the  rain  trickled 
from  his  hair  into  his  eyes.  As  he  crossed  the  street 
a  gust  of  wind  caught  his  cap  and  hurled  it  away  into 
the  wet  night.  But  he  gave  no  thought  to  himself 
or  to  the  weather,  for  the  miracle  had  happened. 
That  dancing  gleam  in  the  gutter  came  from  a 
lighted  lamp  in  a  window  behind  which  some  one 
was  waiting  for  him. 

He  found  Birdie  shaking  with  a  violent  chill,  and 
it  was  only  after  he  had  got  off  her  wet  coat  and 
wrapped  her  in  a  blanket,  and  persuaded  her  to 
drink  the  soup  that  she  began  to  revive. 

"  What  time  of  night  is  it?  "  she  asked  weakly. 

"  After  eleven.  You  're  going  to  stay  where  you 
are,  and  I  'm  going  out  and  find  me  a  room  some 
where.  I  '11  come  back  in  the  morning." 

All  of  Birdie's  alarms  returned. 

"  I  ain't  going  to  stay  here  by  myself,  Dan.  I  '11 
go  crazy,  I  tell  you !  I  don't  want  to  live  and  I  am 
afraid  to  die.  What  sort  of  a  God  is  He  to  let  a 
person  suffer  like  this  ?  " 


336  CALVARY  ALLEY 

And  poor  old  Dan,  at  death-grips  with  his  own 
life  problem,  wrestled  in  vain  with  hers;  arguing, 
reassuring,  affirming,  trying  with  an  almost  fanatic 
zeal  to  conquer  his  own  doubts  in  conquering  hers. 

Then  Birdie,  bent  on  keeping  him  with  her,  talked 
of  herself,  pouring  out  an  incoherent  story  of  mis 
fortune  :  how  she  had  fainted  on  the  stage  one  night 
and  incurred  the  ill-will  of  the  director;  how  the 
company  went  on  and  left  her  without  friends  and 
without  money ;  how  matters  had  gone  from  bad  to 
worse  until  she  could  n't  stand  it  any  longer.  She 
painted  a  picture  of  wronged  innocence  that  would 
have  wrung  a  sterner  heart  than  Dan's. 

"  I  know,"  he  said  sympathetically.  "  I  've  seen 
what  girls  are  up  against  at  Clarke's." 

Birdie's  feverish  eyes  fastened  upon  him. 

"  Have  you  just  come  from  Clarke's?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Is  Mac  there?" 

Dan's  face  hardened. 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  him." 

"No;  and  you  don't  want  to!  If  there's  one 
person  in  this  world  I  hate,  it 's  Mac  Clarke." 

"  Same  here,"  said  Dan,  drawn  to  her  by  the 
attraction  of  a  common  antipathy. 

"  Thinks  he  can  do  what  he  pleases,"  went  on 
Birdie,  bitterly,  "  with  his  good  looks  and  easy  ways. 
He  '11  have  a  lot  to  answer  for!  " 

Dan  sat  with  his  fists  locked,  staring  at  the  floor. 


FATE  TAKES  A  HAND  337 

A  dozen  questions  burned  on  his  lips,  but  he  could 
not  bring  himself  to  ask  them. 

A  fierce  gust  of  wind  rattled  the  window,  and 
Birdie  cried  out  in  terror. 

"  You  stop  being  afraid  and  go  to  sleep,"  urged 
Dan,  but  she  shook  her  head. 

"  I  don't  dare  to !  You  'd  go  away,  and  I  'd 
wake  up  and  go  crazy  with  fear.  I  always  was  like 
that  even  when  I  was  a  kid,  back  home.  I  used  to 
pretty  near  die  of  nights  when  pa  would  come  in 
drunk  and  get  to  breaking  up  things.  There  was  a 
man  like  that  down  where  I  been  staying.  He  'd 
fall  against  my  door  'most  every  night.  Sometimes 
I  'd  meet  him  out  in  the  street,  and  he  'd  follow  me 
for  squares." 

Dan  drew  the  blanket  about  her  shoulders. 

"  Go  to  sleep,"  he  said.     "  I  won't  leave  you." 

"  Yes ;  but  to-morrow  night,  and  next  night ! 
Oh,  God !  I  'm  smothering.  Lift  me  up !  " 

He  sat  on  the  side  of  the  bed  and  lifted  her  until 
she  rested  against  his  shoulder.  A  deathly  pallor 
had  spread  over  her  features,  and  she  clung  to  him 
weakly. 

Through  the  long  hours  of  the  stormy  night  he  sat 
there,  soothing  and  comforting  her,  as  he  would 
have  soothed  a  terror-stricken  child.  By  and  by 
her  clinging  hands  grew  passive  in  his,  her  rigid, 
jerking  limbs  relaxed,  and  she  fell  into  a  feverish 
sleep  broken  by  fitful  sobs  and  smothered  outcries. 


338  CALVARY  ALLEY 

As  Dan  sat  there,  with  her  helpless  weight  against 
him,  and  gently  stroked  the  wet  black  hair  from 
her  brow,  something  fierce  and  protective  stirred  in 
him,  the  quick  instinct  of  the  chivalrous  strong 
to  defend  the  weak.  Here  was  somebody  more 
wretched,  more  desolate,  more  utterly  lonely  than 
himself  —  a  soft,  fearful,  feminine  somebody,  ill- 
fitted  to  fight  the  world  with  those  frail,  white  hands. 
Hitherto  he  had  blindly  worshiped  at  one  shrine, 
and  now  the  image  was  shattered,  the  shrine  was 
empty  —  so  appallingly  empty  that  he  was  ready  to 
fill  it  at  any  cost.  For  the  first  time  in  three  days 
he  ceased  to  think  of  Nance  Molloy  or  of  Mac 
Clarke,  whose  burden  he  was  all  unconsciously  bear 
ing.  He  ceased,  also,  to  think  of  the  soul  he  had 
been  trying  so  earnestly  to  save.  He  thought  in 
stead  of  the  tender  weight  against  his  shoulder,  of 
the  heavy  lashes  that  lay  on  the  tear-stained  cheeks 
so  close  to  his,  of  the  soft,  white  brow  under  his 
rough,  brown  fingers.  Something  older  than  love 
or  religion  was  making  its  claim  on  Dan. 


THE   PRICE   OF   ENLIGHTENMENT 

IT  was  November  of  the  following  year  that  the 
bird  of  ill-omen,  which  had  been  flapping  its 
wings  over  Calvary  Alley  for  so  long,  decided  defi 
nitely  to  alight.  A  catastrophe  occurred  that  threat 
ened  to  remove  the  entire  population  of  the  alley  to 
another  and,  we  trust,  a  fairer  world. 

Mrs.  Snawdor  insists  to  this  day  that  it  was  the 
sanitary  inspector  who  started  the  trouble.  On  one 
of  his  infrequent  rounds  he  had  encountered  a 
strange  odor  in  Number  One,  a  suspicious,  musty 
odor  that  refused  to  come  under  the  classification 
of  krout,  kerosene,  or  herring.  The  tenants,  in  a 
united  body,  indignantly  defended  the  smell. 

"  It  ain't  nothin'  at  all  but  Mis'  Smelts'  garbage," 
Mrs.  Snawdor  declared  vehemently.  "  She  often 
chucks  it  in  a  hole  in  the  kitchen  floor  to  save  steps. 
Anybody  'd  think  the  way  you  was  carryin'  on,  it 
was  a  murdered  corpse !  " 

But  the  inspector  persisted  in  his  investigations, 
forcing  a  way  into  the  belligerent  Snawdor  camp, 
where  he  found  Fidy  Yager  with  a  well-developed 
case  of  smallpox.  She  had  been  down  with  what 

339 


340  CALVARY  ALLEY 

was  thought  to  be  chicken-pox  for  a  week,  but  the 
other  children  had  been  sworn  to  secrecy  under  the 
threat  that  the  doctor  would  scrape  the  skin  off 
their  arms  with  a  knife  if  they  as  much  as  men 
tioned  Fidy's  name. 

It  was  a  culmination  of  a  battle  that  had  raged 
between  Mrs.  Snawdor  and  the  health  authorities 
for  ten  years,  over  the  question  of  vaccination. 
The  epidemic  that  followed  was  the  visible  proof 
of  Mrs.  Snawdor's  victory. 

Calvary  Alley,  having  offered  a  standing  invita 
tion  to  germs  in  general,  was  loathe  to  regard  the 
present  one  as  an  enemy.  It  resisted  the  inspector, 
who  insisted  on  vaccinating  everybody  all  over 
again ;  it  was  indignant  at  the  headlines  in  the  morn 
ing  papers ;  it  was  outraged  when  Number  One  was 
put  in  quarantine. 

Even  when  Fidy  Yager,  who  "  was  n't  all  there," 
and  who,  according  to  her  mother,  had  "  a  fit  a 
minute,"  was  carried  away  to  the  pest-house,  no 
body  was  particularly  alarmed.  But  when,  twenty- 
four  hours  later,  Mr.  Snawdor  and  one  of  the  La- 
vinski  helpers  came  down  with  it,  the  alley  began 
to  look  serious,  and  Mrs.  Snawdor  sent  for  Nance. 

For  six  months  now  Nance  had  been  living  at  a 
young  women's  boarding  home,  realizing  a  life-long 
ambition  to  get  out  of  the  alley.  But  on  hearing 
the  news,  she  flung  a  few  clothes  into  an  old  suit 
case  and  rushed  to  the  rescue. 


THE  PRICE  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT      341 

Since  that  never-to-be-forgotten  day  a  year  ago 
when  word  had  reached  her  of  Dan's  marriage  to 
Birdie  Smelts,  a  hopeless  apathy  had  possessed  her. 
Even  in  the  first  weeks  after  his  departure,  when 
Mac's  impassioned  letters  were  pouring  in  and  she 
was  exerting  all  her  will  power  to  make  good  her 
promise  to  his  father,  she  was  aware  of  a  dull,  be 
numbing  anxiety  over  Dan.  She  had  tried  to  get 
his  address  from  Mrs.  Purdy,  from  Slap  Jack's, 
where  he  still  kept  some  of  his  things,  from  the 
men  he  knew  best  at  the  factory.  Nobody  could 
tell  her  where  he  had  gone,  or  what  he  intended  to 
do. 

Just  what  she  wanted  to  say  to  him  she  did  not 
know.  She  still  resented  bitterly  his  mistrust  of 
her,  and  what  she  regarded  as  his  interference  with 
her  liberty,  but  she  had  no  intention  of  letting  mat 
ters  rest  as  they  were.  She  and  Dan  must  fight  the 
matter  out  to  some  satisfactory  conclusion. 

Then  came  the  news  of  his  marriage,  shattering 
every  hope  and  shaking  the  very  foundation  of  her 
being.  From  her  earliest  remembrance  Dan  had 
been  the  most  dependable  factor  in  her  existence. 
Whirlwind  enthusiasms  for  other  things  and  other 
people  had  caught  her  up  from  time  to  time,  but  she 
always  came  back  to  Dan,  as  one  comes  back  to 
solid  earth  after  a  flight  in  an  aeroplane. 

In  her  first  weeks  of  chagrin  and  mortification 
she  had  sought  refuge  in  thoughts  of  Mac.  She 


342  CALVARY  ALLEY 

had  slept  with  his  unanswered  letters  under  her 
pillow  and  clung  to  the  memory  of  his  ardent  eyes, 
his  gay  laughter,  the  touch  of  his  lips  on  her  hands 
and  cheeks.  Had  Mac  come  home  that  Christmas, 
her  doom  would  have  been  sealed.  The  light  by 
which  she  steered  had  suddenly  gone  out,  and  she 
could  no  longer  distinguish  the  warning  coast  lights 
from  the  harbor  lights  of  home. 

But  Mac  had  not  come  at  Christmas,  neither  had 
he  come  in  the  summer,  and  Nance's  emotional 
storm  was  succeeded  by  an  equally  intolerable  calm. 
Back  and  forth  from  factory  to  boarding  home  she 
trudged  day  by  day,  and  on  Sunday  she  divided  her 
wages  with  Mrs.  Snawdor,  on  the  condition  that 
she  should  have  a  vote  in  the  management  of  family 
affairs.  By  this  plan  Lobelia  and  the  twins  were 
kept  at  school,  and  Mr.  Snawdor's  feeble  efforts  at 
decent  living  were  staunchly  upheld. 

When  the  epidemic  broke  out  in  Calvary  Alley, 
and  Mrs.  Snawdor  signaled  for  help,  Nance  re 
sponded  to  the  cry  with  positive  enthusiasm.  Here 
was  something  stimulating  at  last.  There  was  im 
mediate  work  to  be  done,  and  she  was  the  one  to 
doit. 

As  she  hurried  up  the  steps  of  Number  One,  she 
found  young  Dr.  Isaac  Lavinski  superintending  the 
construction  of  a  temporary  door. 

"  You  can't  come  in  here!  "  he  called  to  her,  per 
emptorily.  "  We  're  in  quarantine.  I  've  got 


THE  PRICE  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT      343 

everybody  out  I  can.  But  enough  people  have  been 
exposed  to  it  already  to  spread  the  disease  all  over 
the  city.  Three  more  cases  to-night.  Mrs.  Smelts' 
symptoms  are  very  suspicious.  Dr.  Adair  is  com 
ing  himself  at  nine  o'clock  to  give  instructions. 
It 's  going  to  be  a  tussle  all  right !  " 

Nance  looked  at  him  in  amazement.  He  spoke 
with  more  enthusiasm  than  he  had  ever  shown  in 
the  whole  -course  of  his  life.  His  narrow,  sallow 
face  was  full  of  keen  excitement.  Little  old  Ike, 
who  had  hidden  under  the  bed  in  the  old  days  when 
ever  a  fight  was  going  on,  was  facing  death  with 
the  eagerness  of  a  valiant  soldier  on  the  eve  of  his 
first  battle. 

"  I  'm  going  to  help  you,  Ike !  "  Nance  cried  in 
stantly.  "  I  've  come  to  stay  'til  it 's  over." 

But  Isaac  barred  the  way. 

"  You  can't  come  in,  I  tell  you !  I  've  cleared  the 
decks  for  action.  Not  another  person  but  the  doc 
tor  and  nurse  are  going  to  pass  over  this  threshold !  " 

"  Look  here,  Ike  Lavinski,"  cried  Nance,  indig 
nantly,  "  you  know  as  well  as  me  that  there  are 
things  that  ought  to  be  done  up  there  at  the  Snaw- 
dors' ! " 

"  They  '11  have  to  go  undone,"  said  Isaac,  firmly. 

Nance  wasted  no  more  time  in  futile  argument. 
She  waited  for  an  opportune  moment  when  Ike's 
back  was  turned;  then  she  slipped  around  the  cor 
ner  of  the  house  and  threaded  her  way  down  the 


344  CALVARY  ALLEY 

dark  passage,  until  she  reached  the  fire-escape. 
There  were  no  lights  in  the  windows  as  she  climbed 
past  them,  and  the  place  seemed  ominously  still. 

At  the  third  platform  she  scrambled  over  a  wash- 
tub  and  a  dozen  plaster  casts  of  Pocahontas, —  Mr. 
Snawdor's  latest  venture  in  industry, —  and  crawled 
through  the  window  into  the  kitchen.  It  was  evi 
dent  at  a  glance  that  Mrs.  Snawdor  had  at  last 
found  that  long-talked-of  day  off  and  had  utilized 
it  in  cleaning  up.  The  room  did  n't  look  natural  in 
its  changed  condition.  Neither  did  Mrs.  Snawdor, 
sitting  in  the  gloom  in  an  attitude  of  deep  dejection. 
At  sight  of  Nance  at  the  window,  she  gave  a  cry 
of  relief. 

"  Thank  the  Lord,  you  've  come !  "  she  said. 
"  Can  you  beat  this  ?  Havin'  to  climb  up  the  out 
side  of  yer  own  house  like  a  fly !  They  've  done  sent 
Fidy  to  the  pest-house,  an'  scattered  the  other  chil- 
dern  all  over  the  neighborhood,  an'  they  got  me 
fastened  up  here,  like  a  hen  in  a  coop !  " 

"  How  is  he?  "  whispered  Nance,  glancing  toward 
the  inner  room. 

"  Ain't  a  thing  the  matter  with  him,  but  the  lum 
bago.  Keeps  on  complainin'  of  a  pain  in  his  back. 
I  never  heard  of  such  a  hullabaloo  about  nothin'  in 
all  my  life.  They  '11  be  havin'  me  down  with  small 
pox  next.  How  long  you  goin'  to  be  here?  " 

Nance,  taking  off  her  hat  and  coat,  announced 
that  she  had  come  to  stay. 


THE  PRICE  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT      345 

Mrs.  Snawdor  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  Well,  if  you  '11  sorter  keep  a  eye  on  him,  I  be 
lieve  I  '11  step  down  an'  set  with  Mis'  Smelts  fer  a 
spell.  I  ain't  been  off  the  place  fer  two  days." 

""'  But  wait  a  minute !  Where 's  Uncle  Jed  ? 
And  Mr.  Demry?  " 

"  They  're  done  bounced  too !  Anybody  tell  you 
'bout  yer  Uncle  Jed's  patent?  They  say  he  stands 
to  make  as  much  as  a  hundern  dollars  offen  it. 
They  say — " 

"  I  don't  care  what  they  say !  "  cried  Nance,  dis 
tractedly.  "  Tell  me,  did  the  children  take  clean 
clothes  with  'em?  Did  you  see  if  Uncle  Jed  had 
his  sweater  ?  Have  you  washed  the  bedclothes  that 
was  on  Fidy's  bed  ?  " 

Mrs.  Snawdor  shook  her  head  impatiently. 

"  I  did  n't,  an'  I  ain't  goin'  to !  That  there  Ike 
Lavinski  ain't  goin'  to  run  me !  He  took  my  Fidy 
off  to  that  there  pest-house  where  I  bet  they  oper 
ate  her.  He  '11  pay  up  fer  this,  you  see  if  he 
don't!" 

She  began  to  cry,  but  as  Nance  was  too  much 
occupied  to  give  audience  to  her  grief,  she  betook 
herself  to  the  first  floor  to  assist  in  the  care  of  Mrs. 
Smelts.  Illness  in  the  abode  of  another  has  a  ro 
mantic  flavor  that  home-grown  maladies  lack. 

When  Dr.  Adair  and  Isaac  Lavinski  made  their 
rounds  at  nine  o'clock,  they  found  Nance  bending 
over  a  steaming  tub,  washing  out  a  heavy  comfort. 


346  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  demanded  Isaac 
in  stern  surprise. 

"  Manicuring  my  finger-nails,"  she  said,  with  an 
impudent  grin,  as  she  straightened  her  tired  shoul 
ders.  Then  seeing  Dr.  Adair,  she  blushed  and 
wiped  her  hands  on  her  apron. 

"You  don't  remember  me,  Doctor,  do  you?  I 
helped  you  with  Uncle  Jed  Burks  at  the  signal  tower 
that  time  when  the  lightning  struck  him." 

He  looked  her  over,  his  glance  traveling  from 
her  frank,  friendly  face  to  her  strong  bare  arms. 

"  Why,  yes,  I  do.  You  and  your  brother  had 
been  to  some  fancy-dress  affair.  I  remember  your 
red  shoes.  It  is  n't  every  girl  of  your  age  that 
could  have  done  what  you  did  that  night.  Have 
you  been  vaccinated  ?  " 

"  Twice.     Both  took." 

"  She  's  got  no  business  being  here,  sir,"  Isaac 
broke  in  hotly.  "  I  told  her  to  keep  out." 

"Doctor!  Listen  at  me!"  pleaded  Nance,  her 
hand  on  his  coat  sleeve.  "  Honest  to  goodness,  I 
got  to  stay.  Mrs.  Snawdor  don't  believe  it 's  small 
pox.  She  '11  slip  the  children  in  when  you  ain't 
looking  and  go  out  herself  and  see  the  neighbors. 
Don't  you  see  that  somebody  's  got  to  be  here  that 
understands?  " 

"  The  girl 's  right,  Lavinski,"  said  Dr.  Adair. 
"  She  knows  the  ropes  here,  and  can  be  of  great 
service  to  us.  The  nurse  downstairs  can't  begin 


THE  PRICE  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT      347 

to  do  it  all.     Now  let  us  have  a  look  at  the  patient." 

Little  Air.  Snawdor  was  hardly  worth  looking  at. 
He  lay  rigid,  like  a  dried  twig,  with  his  eyes  shut 
tight,  and  his  month  shut  tight,  and  his  hands 
clenched  tighter  still.  It  really  seemed  as  if  this 
time  Mr.  Snawdor  was  going  to  make  good  his  old- 
time  threat  to  quit. 

Dr.  Adair  gave  the  necessary  instructions;  then 
he  turned  to  go.  He  had  been  watching  Nance, 
as  she  moved  about  the  room  carrying  out  his  orders, 
and  at  the  door  he  laid  a  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

"  How  old  are  you,  my  girl  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Twenty." 

"  We  need  girls  like  you  up  at  the  hospital. 
Have  you  ever  thought  of  taking  the  training?  " 

"  Me?  I  have  n't  got  enough  spondulicks  to  take 
a  street-car  ride." 

"  That  part  can  be  arranged  if  you  really  want  to 
go  into  the  work.  Think  it  over." 

Then  he  and  the  impatient  Isaac  continued  on 
their  rounds,  and  Nance  went  back  to  her  work. 
But  the  casual  remark,  let  fall  by  Dr.  Adair,  had 
set  her  ambition  soaring.  Her  imagination  flared 
to  the  project.  Snawdor 's  flat  extended  itself  into 
a  long  ward;  poor  little  Mr.  Snawdor,  who  was 
hardly  half  a  man,  became  a  dozen;  and  Miss  Mol- 
loy,  in  a  becoming  uniform,  moved  in  and  out 
among  the  cots,  a  ministering  angel  of  mercy. 

For  the  first  time  since  Dan  Lewis's  marriage, 


348  CALVARY  ALLEY 

her  old  courage  and  zest  for  life  returned,  and  when 
Mrs.  Snawdor  came  in  at  midnight,  she  found  her 
sitting  beside  her  patient  with  shining  eyes  full  of 
waking  dreams. 

"  Mis'  Smelts  is  awful  bad,"  Mrs.  Snawdor  re 
ported,  looking  more  serious  than  she  had  hereto 
fore.  "  Says  she  wants  to  see  you  before  the  nurse 
wakes  up.  Seems  like  she  's  got  somethin'  on  her 
mind." 

Nance  hurried  into  her  coat  and  went  out  into 
the  dark,  damp  hall.  Long  black  roaches  scurried 
out  of  her  way  as  she  descended  the  stairs.  In  the 
hall  below  the  single  gas-jet  flared  in  the  draught, 
causing  ghostly  shadows  to  leap  out  of  corners  and 
then  skulk  fearfully  back  again.  Nance  was  not 
afraid,  but  a  sudden  sick  loathing  filled  her.  Was 
she  never  going  to  be  able  to  get  away  from  it  all? 
Was  that  long  arm  of  duty  going  to  stretch  out 
and  find  her  wherever  she  went,  and  drag  her  back 
to  this  noisome  spot?  Were  all  her  dreams  and 
ambitions  to  die,  as  they  had  been  born,  in  Calvary 
Alley? 

Mrs.  Smelts  had  been  moved  into  an  empty  room 
across  the  hall  from  her  own  crowded  quarters,  and 
as  Nance  pushed  open  the  door,  she  lifted  a  warn 
ing  hand  and  beckoned. 

"  Shut  it,"  she  said  in  a  hoarse  whisper.  "  I 
don't  want  nobody  to  hear  what  I  got  to  tell  you." 


THE  PRICE  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT      349 

"  Can't  it  wait,  Mrs.  Smelts?  "  asked  Nance,  with 
a  pitying  hand  on  the  feverish  brow  across  which  a 
long  white  scar  extended. 

"  No.  They  're  goin'  to  take  me  away  in  the 
mornin'.  I  heard  'em  say  so.  It 's  about  Birdie, 
Nance,  I  want  to  tell  you.  They  've  had  to  lock  her 
up." 

"  It 's  the  fever  makes  you  think  that,  Mrs. 
Smelts.  You  let  me  sponge  you  off  a  bit." 

"  No,  no,  not  yet.  She  's  crazy,  I  tell  you !  She 
went  out  of  her  head  last  January  when  the  baby 
come.  Dan  's  kept  it  to  hisself  all  this  time,  but 
now  he  's  had  to  send  her  to  the  asylum." 

"Who  told  you?" 

"  Dan  did.  He  wrote  me  when  he  sent  me  the 
last  money.  I  got  his  letter  here  under  my  pillow. 
I  want  you  to  burn  it,  Nance,  so  no  one  won't 
know." 

Nance  went  on  mechanically  stroking  the  pain- 
racked  head,  as  she  reached  under  the  pillow  for 
Dan's  letter.  The  sight  of  the  neat,  painstaking 
writing  made  her  heart  contract. 

"  You  tell  him  fer  me,"  begged  Mrs.  Smelts, 
weakly,  "  to  be  good  to  her.  She  never  had  the 
right  start.  Her  paw  handled  me  rough  before  she 
come,  an'  she  was  always  skeery  an'  nervous  like. 
But  she  was  so  purty,  oh,  so  purty,  an'  me  so  proud 
of  her!" 


350  CALVARY  ALLEY 

Nance  wiped  away  the  tears  that  trickled  down 
the  wrinkled  cheeks,  and  tried  to  quiet  her,  but  the 
rising  fever  made  her  talk  on  and  on. 

"  I  ain't  laid  eyes  on  her  since  a  year  ago  this 
fall.  She  come  home  sick,  an'  nobody  knew  it  but 
me.  I  got  out  of  her  whut  was  her  trouble,  an'  I 
went  to  see  his  mother,  but  it  never  done  no  good. 
Then  I  went  to  the  bottle  factory  an'  tried  to  get  his 
father  to  listen  — " 

"  Whose  father?  "  asked  Nance,  sharply. 

"  The  Clarke  boy's.  It  was  him  that  did  fer  her. 
I  tell  you  she  was  a  good  girl  'til  then.  But  they 
would  n't  believe  it.  They  give  me  some  money  to 
sign  the  paper  an'  not  to  tell;  but  before  God  it 's 
him  that 's  the  father  of  her  child,  and  poor  Dan  — 

But  Mrs.  Smelts  never  finished  her  sentence;  a 
violent  paroxysm  of  pain  seized  her,  and  at  dawn 
the  messenger  that  called  for  the  patient  on  the  third 
floor,  following  the  usual  economy  practised  in  Cal 
vary  Alley,  made  one  trip  serve  two  purposes  and 
took  her  also. 

By  the  end  of  the  month  the  epidemic  was  routed, 
and  the  alley,  cleansed  and  chastened  as  it  had  never 
been  before,  was  restored  to  its  own.  Mr.  Snaw- 
dor,  Fidy  Yager,  Mrs.  Smelts,  and  a  dozen  others, 
being  the  unfittest  to  survive,  had  paid  the  price  of 
enlightenment. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

IN    TRAINING 

ONE  sultry  July  night  four  years  later  Dr. 
Isaac  Lavinski,  now  an  arrogant  member  of 
the  staff  at  the  Adair  Hospital,  paused  on  his  last 
round  of  the  wards  and  cocked  an  inquiring  ear 
above  the  steps  that  led  to  the  basement.  Some 
thing  that  sounded  very  much  like  suppressed  laugh 
ter  came  up  to  him,  and  in  order  to  confirm  his  sus 
picions,  he  tiptoed  down  to  the  landing  and,  making 
an  undignified  syphon  of  himself,  peered  down  into 
the  rear  passage.  In  a  circle  on  the  floor,  four 
nurses  in  their  nightgowns  softly  beat  time,  while 
a  fifth,  arrayed  in  pink  pajamas,  with  her  hair  fly 
ing,  gave  a  song  and  dance  with  an  abandon  that 
ignored  the  fact  that  the  big  thermometer  in  the 
entry  registered  ninety-nine. 

The  giggles  that  had  so  disturbed  Dr.  Lavinski's 
peace  of  mind  increased  in  volume,  as  the  dancer 
executed  a  particularly  daring  passcnl  and,  turning 
a  double  somersault;  landed  deftly  on  her. bare  toes. 

"  Go  on,  do  it  again!  "  "  Show  us  how  Sheeny 
IKC  dances  the  tango."  "  Sing  Barney  McKane," 
came  in  an  enthusiastic  chorus. 


352  CALVARY  ALLEY 

But  before  the  encore  could  be  responded  to,  a 
familiar  sound  in  the  court  without,  sent  the  girls 
scampering  to  their  respective  rooms. 

Dr.  Isaac,  reluctantly  relinquishing  his  chance 
for  administering  prompt  and  dramatic  chastise 
ment,  came  down  the  stairs  and  out  to  the  entry. 

An  ambulance  had  just  arrived,  and  behind  it  was 
a  big  private  car,  and  behind  that  Dr.  Adair's  own 
neat  runabout. 

Dr.  Adair  met  Dr.  Isaac  at  the  door. 

"  It 's  an  emergency  case,"  he  explained  hastily. 
"  I  may  have  to  operate  to-night.  Prepare  num 
ber  sixteen,  and  see  if  Miss  Molloy  is  off  duty." 

"  She  is,  sir,"  said  Isaac,  grimly,  "  and  the  sooner 
she 's  put  on  a  case  the  better." 

"  Tell  her  to  report  at  once.  And  send  an  orderly 
down  to  lend  a  hand  with  the  stretcher." 

Five  minutes  later  an  immaculate  nurse,  every 
button  fastened,  every  fold  in  place,  presented  her 
self  on  the  third  floor  for  duty.  You  would  have 
had  to  look  twice  to  make  certain  that  that  slim, 
trim  figure  in  its  white  uniform  was  actually  Nance 
Molloy.  To  be  sure  her  eyes  sparkled  with  the  old 
fire  under  her  becoming  cap,  and  her  chin  was  still 
carried  at  an  angle  that  hinted  the  possession  of  a 
secret  gold  mine,  but  she  had  changed  amazingly 
for  all  that.  Life  had  evidently  been  busy  chiseling 
away  her  rough  edges,  and  from  a  certain  poise  of 


IN  TRAINING  353 

body  and  a  professional  control  of  voice  and  ges 
ture,  it  was  apparent  that  Nance  had  done  a  little 
chiseling  on  her  own  account. 

As  she  stood  in  the  dim  corridor  awaiting  orders, 
she  could  not  help  overhearing  a  conversation  be 
tween  Dr.  Adair  and  the  agitated  lady  who  stood 
with  her  hand  on  the  door-knob  of  number  sixteen. 

"  My  dear  madam,"  the  doctor  was  saying  in  a 
tone  that  betokened  the  limit  of  patience,  "  you 
really  must  leave  the  matter  to  my  judgment.  If 
we  operate  — " 

"But  you  won't  unless  it's  the  last  resort?" 
pleaded  the  lady.  "  You  know  how  frightfully  sen 
sitive  to  pain  he  is.  But  if  you  find  out  that  you 
must,  then  I  want  you  to  promise  me  not  to  let  him 
suffer  afterward.  You  must  keep  him  under  the 
influence  of  opiates,  and  you  will  wait  until  his  fa 
ther  can  get  here,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  But  that 's  the  trouble.  You  've  waited  too  long 
already.  Appendicitis  is  not  a  thing  to  take  liber 
ties  with." 

"  You  don't  mean  it 's  too  late  ?  You  don't 
think—" 

"  We  don't  think  anything  at  present.  We  hope 
everything."  Then  spying  Nance,  he  turned  to 
ward  her  with  relief.  "  This  is  the  nurse  who  will 
take  charge  of  the  case." 

The  perturbed  lady  uncovered  one  eye. 


354  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  You  are  sure  she  is  one  of  your  very  best?  " 

"  One  of  our  best,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  and 
Nance  exchanged  a  quizzical  smile. 

"  Let  her  go  in  to  him  now.  I  can't  bear  for  him 
to  be  alone  a  second.  As  I  was  telling  you  — " 

Nance  passed  into  the  darkened  room  and  closed 
the  door  softly.  The  patient  was  evidently  asleep; 
so  she  tiptoed  over  to  the  window  and  slipped  into 
a  chair.  On  each  side  of  the  open  space  without 
stretched  the  vine-clad  wings  of  the  hospital,  gray 
now  under  the  starlight.  Nance's  eyes  traveled 
reminiscently  from  floor  to  floor,  from  window  to 
window.  How  many  memories  the  old  building 
held  for  her!  Memories  of  heartaches  and  happi 
ness,  of  bad  times  and  good  times,  of  bitter  defeats 
and  dearly  won  triumphs. 

It  had  been  no  easy  task  for  a  girl  of  her  limited 
education  and  undisciplined  nature  to  take  the  train 
ing  course.  But  she  had  gallantly  stood  to  her  guns 
and  out  of  seeming  defeat,  won  a  victory.  For  the 
first  time  in  her  diversified  career  she  had  worked  in 
a  congenial  environment  toward  a  fixed  goal,  and 
in  a  few  weeks  now  she  would  be  launching  her 
own  little  boat  on  the  professional  main. 

Her  eyes  grew  tender  as  she  thought  of  leaving 
these  protecting  gray  walls  that  had  sheltered  her 
for  four  long  years ;  yet  the  adventure  of  the  future 
was  already  calling.  Where  would  her  first  case 
lead  her? 


IN  TRAINING  355 

A  cough  from  the  bed  brought  her  sharply  back  to 
the  present.  She  went  forward  and  stooped  to  ad 
just  a  pillow,  and  the  patient  opened  his  eyes,  stared 
at  her  in  bewilderment,  then  pulled  himself  up  on 
his  elbow. 

"  Nance !  "  he  cried  incredulously.  "  Nance  Mol- 
loy!" 

She  started  back  in  dismay. 

"Why,  it's  Mr.  Mac!  I  didn't  know!  I 
thought  I'd  seen  the  lady  before  —  no,  please! 
Stop,  they  're  coming !  Please,  Mr.  Mac !  " 

For  the  patient,  heretofore  too  absorbed  in  his 
own  affliction  to  note  anything,  was  covering  her 
imprisoned  hands  with  kisses  and  calling  on  Heaven 
to  witness  that  he  was  willing  to  undergo  any  num 
ber  of  operations  if  she  would  nurse  him  through 
them. 

Nance  escaped  from  the  room  as  Mrs.  Clarke  en 
tered.  With  burning  cheeks  she  rushed  to  Dr. 
Adair's  office. 

"  You  '11  have  to  get  somebody  else  on  that  case, 
Doctor,"    she    declared    impulsively.     "  I    used    to 
work  for  Mr.  Clarke  up  at  the  bottle  factory,  and  - 
and  there  are  reasons  why  I  don't  want  to  take 
it." 

Dr.  Adair  looked  at  her  over  his  glasses  and 
frowned. 

"  It  is  a  nurse's  duty,"  he  said  sternly,  "  to  take 
the  cases  as  they  come,  irrespective  of  likes  or 


356  CALVARY  ALLEY 

dislikes.  Mr.  Clarke  is  an  old  friend  of  mine,  a 
man  I  admire  and  respect." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  know,  but  if  you  '11  just  excuse  me 
this  once  — " 

"Is  Miss  Rand  off  duty?" 

"  No,  sir.     She  's  in  number  seven." 

"Miss  Foster?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Then  I  shall  have  to  insist  upon  your  taking  the 
case.  I  must  have  somebody  I  can  depend  upon  to 
look  after  young  Clarke  for  the  next  twenty-four 
hours.  It 's  not  only  the  complication  with  his  ap 
pendix;  it 's  his  lungs." 

"  You  mean  he  's  tubercular?  " 

"  Yes." 

Nance's  eyes  widened. 

"  Does  he  know  it?  " 

"  No.  I  shall  wait  and  tell  his  father.  I 
would  n't  undertake  to  break  the  news  to  that 
mother  of  his  for  a  house  and  lot!  You  take  the 
case  to-night,  and  I  '11  operate  in  the  morning  — 

"  No,  no,  please,  Doctor !  Mr.  Clarke  wrould  n't 
want  me." 

"  Mr.  Clarke  will  be  satisfied  with  whatever  ar 
rangement  I  see  fit  to  make.  Besides  another 
nurse  will  be  in  charge  by  the  time  he  arrives." 

"  But,  Doctor  — " 

A  stern  glance  silenced  her,  and  she  went  out, 
closing  the  door  as  hard  as  she  dared  behind  her. 


IN  TRAINING  357 

During  her  four  years  at  the  hospital  the  memory 
of  Mac  Clarke  had  grown  fainter  and  fainter  like 
the  perfume  of  a  fading  flower.  But  the  memory 
of  Dan  was  like  a  thorn  in  her  flesh,  buried  deep, 
but  never  forgotten. 

To  herself,  her  fellow-nurses,  the  young  internes 
who  invariably  fell  in  love  with  her,  she  declared 
gaily  that  she  was  "  through  with  men  forever." 
The  subject-  that  excited  her  fiercest  scorn  was  mat 
rimony,  and  she  ridiculed  sentiment  with  the  su 
perior  attitude  of  one  who  has  weighed  it  in  the 
balance  and  found  it  wanting. 

Nevertheless  something  vaguely  disturbing  woke 
in  her  that  night  when  she  watched  with  Mrs.  Clarke 
at  Mac's  bedside.  Despite  the  havoc  five  years  had 
wrought  in  him,  there  was  the  old  appealing  charm 
in  his  voice  and  manner,  the  old  audacity  in  his 
whispered  words  when  she  bent  over  him,  the  old 
eager  want  in  his  eyes  as  they  followed  her  about 
the  room. 

Toward  morning  he  dropped  into  a  restless  sleep, 
and  Mrs.  Clarke,  who  had  been  watching  his  every 
breath,  tiptoed  over  to  the  table  and  sat  down  by 
Nance. 

"  My  son  tells  me  you  are  the  Miss  Molloy  who 
used  to  be  in  the  office,"  she  whispered.  "  He  is  so 
happy  to  find  some  one  here  he  knows.  He  loathes 
trained  nurses  as  a  rule.  They  make  him  nervous. 
But  he  has  been  wonderfully  good  about  letting  you 


358  CALVARY  ALLEY 

do  things  for  him.     It 's  a  tremendous  relief  to  me." 

Nance  made  a  mistake  on  the  chart  that  was  going 
to  call  for  an  explanation  later. 

"  He  's  been  losing  ground  ever  since  last  win 
ter,"  the  doting  mother  went  on.  "  He  was  really 
quite  well  at  Divonne-les-Bains,  but  he  lost  all  he 
gained  when  we  reached  Paris.  You  see  he  does  n't 
know  how  to  take  care  of  himself;  that 's  the  trou 
ble." 

Mac  groaned  and  she  hurried  to  him. 

"  He  wants  a  cigarette,  Miss  Molloy.  I  don't 
believe  it  would  hurt  him,"  she  said. 

"  His  throat 's  already  irritated,"  said  Nance,  in 
her  most  professional  tone.  "  I  am  sure  Dr.  Adair 
would  n't  want  him  to  smoke." 

"  But  we  can't  refuse  him  anything  to-night," 
said  Mrs.  Clarke,  with  an  apologetic  smile  as  she 
reached  for  the  matches. 

Nance  looking  at  her  straight,  delicate  profile 
thrown  into  sudden  relief  by  the  flare  of  the  match, 
had  the  same  disturbing  sense  of  familiarity  that 
she  had  experienced  long  ago  in  the  cathedral. 

But  during  the  next  twenty-four  hours  there  was 
no  time  to  analyze  subtle  impressions  or  to  indulge 
in  sentimental  reminiscence.  From  the  moment 
Mac's  unconscious  form  was  borne  down  from  the 
operating  room  and  handed  over  to  her  care,  he 
ceased  to  be  a  man  and  became  a  critically  ill  pa 
tient. 


IN  TRAINING  359 

"  We  have  n't  much  to  work  on,"  said  Dr.  Adair, 
shaking  his  head.  "  He  has  no  resisting  power. 
He  has  burned  himself  out." 

But  Mac's  powers  of  resistance  were  stronger 
than  he  thought,  and  by  the  time  Mr.  Clarke  ar 
rived  the  crisis  was  passed.  Slowly  and  painfully 
he  struggled  back  to  consciousness,  and  his  first  de 
mand  was  for  Nance. 

"  It 's  the-  nurse  he  had  when  he  first  came,"  Mrs. 
Clarke  explained  to  her  husband.  "  You  must  make 
Dr.  Adair  give  her  back  to  us.  She  's  the  only 
nurse  I  've  ever  seen  who  could  get  Mac  to  do  things. 
By  the  way,  she  used  to  be  in  your  office,  a  rather 
pretty,  graceful  girl,  named  Molloy." 

"  I  remember  her,"  said  Mr.  Clarke,  grimly. 
"  You  better  leave  things  as  they  are.  Miss  Hanna 
seems  to  know  her  business." 

"  But  Mac  hates  Miss  Hanna !  He  says  her 
hands  make  him  think  of  bedsprings.  Miss  Molloy 
makes  him  laugh  and  helps  him  to  forget  the  pain. 
He  's  taken  a  tremendous  fancy  to  her." 

"  Yes,  he  had  quite  a  fancy  for  her  once  before." 

"Now,  Macpherson,  how  can  you?"  cried  Mrs. 
Clarke  on  the  verge  of  tears.  "  Just  because  the 
boy  made  one  slip  when  he  was  little  more  than  a 
child,  you  suspect  his  every  motive.  I  don't  see 
how  you  can  be  so  cruel!  If  you  had  seen  his 
agony,  if  you  had  been  through  what  I  have  — " 

Thus  it  happened  that  instead  of  keeping  Nance 


36o  CALVARY  ALLEY 

out  of  Mac's  sight,  Mrs.  Clarke  left  no  stone  un 
turned  to  get  her  back,  and  Mr.  Clarke  was  even 
persuaded  to  take  it  up  personally  with  Dr.  Adair. 

Nance  might  have  held  out  to  the  end,  had  her 
sympathies  not  been  profoundly  stirred  by  the 
crushing  effect  the  news  of  Mac's  serious  tubercular 
condition  had  upon  his  parents.  On  the  day  they 
were  told  Mr.  Clarke  paced  the  corridor  for  hours 
with  slow  steps  and  bent  head,  refusing  to  see  peo 
ple  or  to  answer  the  numerous  inquiries  over  the 
telephone.  As  for  Mrs.  Clarke,  all  the  fragile 
prettiness  and  girlish  grace  she  had  carried  over 
into  maturity,  seemed  to  fall  away  from  her  within 
the  hour,  leaving  her  figure  stooped  and  her  face 
settled  into  lines  of  permanent  anxiety. 

The  mother's  chief  concern  now  was  to  break 
the  news  of  his  condition  to  Mac,  who  was  already 
impatiently  straining  at  the  leash,  eager  to  get  back 
to  his  old  joyous  pursuits  and  increasingly  intol 
erant  of  restrictions. 

"  He  refuses  to  listen  to  me  or  to  his  father,"  she 
confided  to  Nance,  who  had  coaxed  her  down  to 
the  yard  for  a  breath  of  fresh  air.  "  I  'm  afraid 
we  've  lost  our  influence  over  him.  And  yet  I  can't 
bear  for  Dr.  Adair  to  tell  him.  He  's  so  stern  and 
says  such  dreadful  things.  Do  you  know  he  ac 
tually  was  heartless  enough  to  tell  Mac  that  he  had 
brought  a  great  deal  of  this  trouble  on  himself!  " 

Nance  slipped  her  hand  through  Mrs.   Clarke's 


IN  TRAINING  361 

arm,  and  patted  it  reassuringly.  She  had  come  to 
have  a  sort  of  pitying  regard  for  this  terror-stricken 
mother  during  these  days  of  anxious  waiting. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  would  be  willing  to  tell  him?  " 
Mrs.  Clarke  asked,  looking  at  her  appealingly. 
"  Maybe  you  could  make  him  understand  without 
frightening  him." 

"  I  '11  try,"  said  Nance,  with  ready  sympathy. 

The  opportunity  came  one  day  in  the  following 
week  when  the  regular  day  nurse  was  off  duty.  She 
found  Mac  alone,  propped  up  in  bed,  and  tre 
mendously  glad  to  see  her.  To  a  less  experienced 
person  the  brilliancy  of  his  eyes  and  the  color  in 
his  cheeks  would  have  meant  returning  health,  but 
to  Nance  they  were  danger  signals  that  nerved  her 
to  her  task. 

"  I  hear  you  are  going  home  next  week,"  she  said, 
resting  her  crossed  arms  on  the  foot  of  his  bed. 
"  Going  to  be  good  and  take  care  of  yourself  ?  " 

"  Not  on  your  life!  "  cried  Mac,  gaily,  searching 
under  his  pillow  for  his  cigarette  case.  "  The  lid  's 
been  on  for  a  month,  and  it 's  coming  off  with  a 
bang.  I  intend  to  shoot  the  first  person  that  men 
tions  health  to  me." 

"  Fire  away  then,"  said  Nance.  "  I  'm  it.  I  've 
come  to  hand  you  out  a  nice  little  bunch  of  advice." 

"  You  need  n't.  I  've  got  twice  as  much  now  as 
I  intend  to  use.  Come  on  around  here  and  be  so 
ciable.  I  want  to  make  love  to  you." 


362  CALVARY  ALLEY 

Nance  declined  the  invitation. 

"  Has  Dr.  Adair  put  you  wise  on  what  he  's  let 
ting  you  in  for  ?  " 

"  Rather !  Raw  eggs,  rest,  and  rust.  Mother 
put  him  up  to  it.  It 's  perfect  rot.  I  '11  be  feeling 
fit  as  a  fiddle  inside  of  two  weeks.  All  I  need  is 
to  get  out  of  this  hole.  They  could  n't  have  kept 
me  here  this  long  if  it  had  n't  been  for  you." 

"  And  I  reckon  you  're  counting  on  going  back  and 
speeding  up  just  as  you  did  before?  " 

"Sure,  why  not?" 

"  Because  you  can't.  The  sooner  you  soak  that 
in,  the  better." 

He  blew  a  succession  of  smoke  rings  in  her  direc 
tion  and  laughed. 

"  So  they  've  taken  you  into  the  conspiracy,  have 
they?  Going  to  frighten  me  into  the  straight  and 
narrow,  eh  ?  Suppose  I  tell  them  that  I  'm  love 
sick  ?  That  there  's  only  one  cure  for  me  in  the 
world,  and  that 's  you?  " 

The  ready  retort  with  which  she  had  learned  to 
parry  these  personalities  was  not  forthcoming.  She 
felt  as  she  had  that  day  five  years  ago  in  his  father's 
office,  when  she  told  him  what  she  thought  of  him. 
He  smiled  up  at  her  with  the  same  irresponsible 
light  in  his  brown  eyes,  the  same  eager  desire  to  side 
step  the  disagreeable,  the  old  refusal  to  accept  life 
seriously.  He  was  such  a  boy  despite  his  twenty- 
six  years.  Such  a  spoiled,  selfish  lovable  boy! 


IN  TRAINING  363 

With  a  sudden  rush  of  pity,  she  went  to  him  and 
took  his  hand : 

"  See  here,  Mr.  Mac,"  she  said  very  gravely,  "  I 
got  to  tell  you  something.  Dr.  Adair  wanted  to 
tell  you  from  the  first,  but  your  mother  headed  him 
off." 

He  shot  a  swift  glance  at  her. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Nance  ?  " 

Then  Nance  sat  on  the  side  of  his  bed  and  ex 
plained  to  him,  as  gently  and  as  firmly  as  she  could, 
the  very  serious  nature  of  his  illness,  emphasizing 
the  fact  that  his  one  chance  for  recovery  lay  in  com 
plete  surrender  to  a  long  and  rigorous  regime  of 
treatment. 

From  scoffing  incredulity,  he  passed  to  anxious 
skepticism  and  then  to  agonized  conviction.  It  was 
the  first  time  he  had  ever  faced  any  disagreeable 
fact  in  life  from  which  there  was  no  appeal,  and  he 
cried  out  in  passionate  protest.  If  he  was  a 
"  lunger  "  he  wanted  to  die  as  soon  as  possible.  He 
hated  those  wheezy  chaps  that  went  coughing 
through  life,  avoiding  draughts,  and  trying  to  keep 
their  feet  dry.  If  he  was  going  to  die,  he  wanted 
to  do  it  with  a  rush.  He  'd  be  hanged  if  he  'd  cut 
out  smoking,  drinking,  and  running  with  the  boys, 
just  to  lie  on  his  back  for  a  year  and  perhaps  die  at 
the  end  of  it! 

Nance  faced  the  bitter  crisis  with  him,  whipping 
up  his  courage,  strengthening  his  weak  will,  nerv- 


364  CALVARY  ALLEY 

ing  him  for  combat.  When  she  left  him  an  hour 
later,  with  his  face  buried  in  the  pillow  and  his 
hands  locked  above  his  head,  he  had  promised  to 
submit  to  the  doctor's  advice  on  the  one  condition 
that  she  would  go  home  with  him  and  start  him  on 
that  fight  for  life  that  was  to  tax  all  his  strength 
and  patience  and  self-control. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

HER    FIRST    CASE 

OCTOBER  hovered  over  Kentucky  that  year  in 
a  golden  halo  of  enchantment.  The  beech- 
trees  ran  the  gamut  of  glory,  and  every  shrub  and 
weed  had  its  hour  of  transient  splendor.  A  soft 
haze  from  burning  brush  lent  the  world  a  sense  of 
mystery  and  immensity.  Day  after  day  on  the 
south  porch  at  Hillcrest  Mac  Clarke  lay  propped 
with  cushions  on  a  wicker  couch,  while  Nance 
Molloy  sat  beside  him,  and  all  about  them  was  a 
stir  of  whispering,  dancing,  falling  leaves.  The 
hillside  was  carpeted  with  them,  the  brook  below 
the  pergola  was  strewn  with  bits  of  color,  while 
overhead  the  warm  sunshine  filtered  through  can 
opies  of  russet  and  crimson  and  green. 

"  I  tell  you  the  boy  is  infatuated  with  that  girl," 
Mr.  Clarke  warned  his  wife  from  time  to  time. 

"  What  nonsense ! "  Mrs.  Clarke  answered. 
"  He  is  just  amusing  himself  a  bit.  He  will  for 
get  her  as  soon  as  he  gets  out  and  about." 

"But  the  girl?" 

"  Oh,  she  's  too  sensible  to  have  any  hopes  of 
365 


366  CALVARY  ALLEY 

that  kind.  She  really  is  an  exceptionally  nice  girl. 
Rather  too  frank  in  her  speech,  and  frequently  un- 
grammatical  and  slangy,  but  I  don't  know  what  we 
should  do  without  her." 

But  even  Mrs.  Clarke's  complacence  was  a  bit 
shaken  as  the  weeks  slipped  away,  and  Mac's  ob 
session  became  the  gossip  of  the  household.  To  be 
sure,  so  long  as  Nance  continued  to  regard  the 
whole  matter  as  a  joke  and  refused  to  take  Mac 
seriously,  no  harm  would  be  done.  But  that  very 
indifference  that  assured  his  adoring  mother,  at 
the  same  time  piqued  her  pride.  That  an  ordinary 
trained  nurse,  born  and  brought  up,  Heaven  knew 
where,  should  be  insensible  to  Mac's  even  transient 
attention  almost  amounted  to  an  impertinence. 
Quite  unconsciously  she  began  to  break  down 
Nance's  defenses. 

"  You  must  be  very  good  to  my  boy,  dear,"  she 
said  one  day  in  her  gentle,  coaxing  way.  "  I  know 
he  's  a  bit  capricious  and  exacting  at  times.  But 
we  can't  afford  to  cross  him  now  when  he  is  just 
beginning  to  improve.  He  was  terribly  upset  last 
night  when  you  teased  him  about  leaving." 

"  But '  I  ought  to  go,  Mrs.  Clarke.  He  'd  get 
along  just  as  well  now  with  another  nurse.  Be 
sides  I  only  promised  — " 

"Not  another  word!"  implored  Mrs.  Clarke  in 
instant  alarm.  "  I  would  n't  answer  for  the  con 
sequences  if  you  left  us  now.  Mac  goes  all  to  pieces 


HER  FIRST  CASE  367 

when  it  is  suggested.  He  has  always  been  so  used 
to  having  his  own  way,  you  know." 

Yes,  Nance  knew.  Between  her  unceasing  ef 
forts  to  get  him  well,  and  her  grim  determination 
to  keep  the  situation  well  in  hand,  she  had  unlim 
ited  opportunity  of  finding  out.  The  physicians 
agreed  that  his  chances  for  recovery  were  one  to 
three.  It  was  only  by  the  most  persistent  observ 
ance  of  certain  regulations  pertaining  to  rest,  diet, 
and  fresh  air,  that  they  held  out  any  hope  of  ar 
resting  the  malady  that  had  already  made  such 
alarming  headway.  Nance  realized  from  the  first 
that  it  was  to  be  a  fight  against  heavy  odds,  and  she 
gallantly  rose  to  the  emergency.  Aside  from  the 
keen  personal  interest  she  took  in  Mac,  and  the 
sympathy  she  felt  for  his  stricken  parents,  she  had 
an  immense  pride  in  her  first  private  case,  on  which 
she  was  determined  to  win  her  spurs. 

For  three  months  now  she  had  controlled  the 
situation.  With  undaunted '  perseverance  she  had 
made  Mac  submit  to  authority  and  succeeded  in 
successfully  combatting  his  mother's  inclination  to 
yield  to  his  every  whim.  The  gratifying  result  was 
that  Mac  was  gradually  putting  on  flesh  and,  with 
the  exception  of  a  continued  low  fever,  was  showing 
decided  improvement.  Already  talk  of  a  western 
flight  was  in  the  air. 

The  whole  matter  hinged  at  present  on  Mac's  re 
fusal  to  go  unless  Nance  could  be  induced  to  accom- 


368  CALVARY  ALLEY 

pany  them.  The  question  had  been  argued  from 
every  conceivable  angle,  and  gradually  a  conspiracy 
had  been  formed  between  Mac  and  his  mother  to 
overcome  her  apparently  absurd  resistance. 

"  It  is  n't  as  if  she  had  any  good  reason,"  Mrs. 
Clarke  complained  to  her  husband,  with  tears  in 
her  eyes.  "  She  has  no  immediate  family,  and  she 
might  just  as  well  be  on  duty  in  California  as  in 
Kentucky.  I  don't  see  how  she  can  refuse  to  go 
when  she  sees  how  weak  Mac  is,  and  how  he  de 
pends  on  her." 

"  The  girl 's  got  more  sense  than  all  the  rest  of 
you  put  together!"  said  Mr.  Clarke.  "  She  sees 
the  way  things  are  going." 

"  Well,  what  if  Mac  is  in  love  with  her?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Clarke,  for  the  first  time  frankly  facing  the 
situation.  "  Of  course  it 's  just  his  sick  fancy,  but 
he  is  in  no  condition  to  be  argued  with.  The  one 
absolutely  necessary  thing  is  to  get  her  to  go  with 
us.  Suppose  you  ask  her.  Perhaps  that 's  what 
she  is  waiting  for." 

"  And  you  are  willing  to  take  the  consequences  ?  " 

"  I  am  willing  for  anything  on  earth  that  will 
help  me  keep  my  boy,"  sobbed  Mrs.  Clarke,  re 
sorting  to  a  woman's  surest  weapon. 

So  Mr.  Clarke  turned  his  ponderous  batteries 
upon  the  situation,  using  money  as  the  ammunition 
with  which  he  was  most  familiar. 

The  climax  was  reached  one  night  toward  the 


HER  FIRST  CASE  369 

end  of  October  when  the  first  heavy  hoar-frost  of 
the  season  gave  premonitory  threat  of  coming  win 
ter"  The  family  was  still  at  dinner,  and  Mac  was 
having  his  from  a  tray  before  the  library  fire.  The 
heavy  curtains  had  been  drawn  against  the  chill 
world  without,  and  the  long  room  was  a  soft  har 
mony  of  dull  reds  and  browns,  lit  up  here  and 
there  by  rose-shaded  lamps. 

It  was  a  luxurious  room,  full  of  trophies  of  for 
eign  travel.  The  long  walls  were  hung  with  excellent 
pictures ;  the  floors  were  covered  with  rare  rugs ;  the 
furniture  was  selected  with  perfect  taste.  Every 
detail  had  been  elaborately  and  skilfully  worked  out 
by  an  eminent  decorator.  Only  one  insignificant 
item  had  been  omitted.  In  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  library,  not  a  book  was  to  be  seen. 

Mac,  letting  his  soup  cool  while  he-  read  the  letter 
Nance  had  just  brought  him,  gave  an  exclamation 
of  surprise. 

"  By  George !  Monte  Pearce  is  going  to  get 
married !  " 

Nance  laughed. 

"  I  've  got  a  tintype  of  Mr.  Monte  settling  down. 
Who's  the  girl?" 

"  A  cousin  of  his  in  Honolulu.  Her  father  is  a 
sugar  king;  no  end  of  cash.  Think  of  old  Monte 
landing  a  big  fish  like  that!  " 

'  That 's  what  you  '11  be  doing  when  you  get  out 
to  your  ranch." 


370  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  I  intend  to  take  my  girl  along." 

"  You  '11  have  to  get  her  first." 

Mac  turned  on  her  with  an  invalid's  fretfulness. 
"  See  here,  Nance,"  he  cried,  "  cut  that  out,  will 
you?  Either  you  go,  or  I  stay,  do  you  see?  I 
know  I  'm  a  fool  about  you,  but  I  can't  help  it. 
Nance,  why  don't  you  love  me?" 

Nance  looked  down  at  him  helplessly.  She  had 
been  refusing  him  on  an  average  of  twice  a  day  for 
the  past  week,  and  her  powers  of  resistance  were 
weakening.  The  hardest  granite  yields  in  the  end 
to  the  persistent  dropping  of  water.  However 
much  the  clear-headed,  independent  side  of  her 
might  refuse  him,  to  another  side  of  her  he  was 
strangely  appealing.  Often  when  she  was  near  him, 
the  swift  remembrance  of  other  days  filled  her  with 
sudden  desire  to  yield,  if  only  for  a  moment,  to  his 
insatiable  demands.  Despite  her  most  heroic  reso 
lution,  she  sometimes  relaxed  her  vigilance  as  she 
did  to-night,  and  allowed  her  hand  to  rest  in  his. 

Mac  made  the  most  of  the  moment. 

"  I  don't  ask  you  to  promise  me  anything,  Nance. 
I  just  ask  you  to  come  with  me!  "  he  pleaded,  with 
eloquent  eyes,  "  we  can  get  a  couple  of  ponies  and 
scour  the  trails  all  over  those  old  mountains.  At 
Coronada  there  's  bully  sea  bathing.  And  the  mo 
toring —  why  you  can  go  for  a  hundred  miles 
straight  along  the  coast !  " 


HER  FIRST  CASE  371 

Nance's  eyes  kindled,  but  she  shook  her  head. 
"  You  can  do  all  that  without  me.  All  I  do  is  to 
jack  you  up  and  make  you  take  care  of  yourself. 
I  should  think  you  'd  hate  me,  Mr.  Mac." 

"  Well,  I  don't.  Sometimes  I  wish  I  did.  I  love 
you  even  when  you  come  down  on  me  hardest.  A 
chap  gets  sick  of  being  mollycoddled.  When  you 
fire  up  and  put  your  saucy  little  chin  in  the  air,  and 
tell  me  I  sha'n't  have  a  cocktail,  and  call  me  a  fool 
for  stealing  a  smoke,  it  bucks  me  up  more  than 
anything.  By  George,  I  believe  I  'd  amount  to 
something  if  you  'd  take  me  permanently  in 
hand." 

Nance  laughed,  and  he  pulled  her  down  on  the 
arm  of  his  chair. 

"  Say  you  '11  marry  me,  Nance,"  he  implored. 
"  You  '11  learn  to  care  for  me  all  right.  You  want 
to  get  out  and  see  the  world.  I  '11  take  you.  We  '11 
go  out  to  Honolulu  and  see  Monte.  Mother  will 
talk  the  governor  over ;  she  's  promised.  They  '11 
give  me  anything  I  want,  and  I  want  you.  Oh, 
Nance  darling,  don't  leave  me  to  fight  through  this 
beastly  business  alone !  " 

There  was  a  haunted  look  of  fear  in  his  eyes  as 
he  clung  to  her  that  appealed  to  her  more  than  his 
former  demands  had  ever  done.  Instinctively  her 
strong,  tender  hands  closed  over  his  thin,  weak 
ones. 


372  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  Nobody  expects  you  to  fight  it  through  alone," 
she  reassured  him,  "  but  you  come  on  down  off  this 
high  horse !  We  '11  be  having  another  bad  night 
the  first  thing  you  know." 

"  They  '11  all  be  bad  if  you  don't  come  with  me, 
Nance.  I  won't  ask  you  to  say  yes  to-night,  but 
for  God's  sake  don't  say  no !  " 

Nance  observed  the  brilliancy  of  his  eyes  and  the 
flush  on  his  thin  cheeks,  and  knew  that  his  fever 
was  rising. 

"  All  right,"  she  promised  lightly.  "  I  won't  say 
no  to-night,  if  you  '11  stop  worrying.  I  'm  going  to 
fix  you  nice  and  comfy  on  the  couch  and  not  let  you 
say  another  word." 

But  when  she  had  got  him  down  on  the  couch, 
nothing  would  do  but  she  must  sit  on  the  hassock 
beside  him  and  soothe  his  aching  head.  Sometimes 
he  stopped  her  stroking  hand  to  kiss  it,  but  for  the 
most  part  he  lay  with  eyes  half -closed  and  elab 
orated  his  latest  whim. 

"  We  could  stay  awhile  in  Honolulu  and  then  go 
on  to  Japan  and  China.  I  want  to  see  India,  too, 
and  Mandalay, 

.  .  .  somewhere  east  of  Suez,  where  the  best  is  like  the 

worst, 
And  there  are  n't  no  Ten  Commandments 

—  you  remember  Kipling's  Mandalay  ?  " 


HER  FIRST  CASE  373 

Nance  could  n't  remember  what  she  had  never 
known,  but  she  did  not  say  so.  Since  her  advent 
at  Hillcrest  she  had  learned  to  observe  and  listen 
without  comment.  This  was  not  her  world,  and  her 
shrewd  common-sense  told  her  so  again  and  again. 
Even  the  servants  who  moved  with  such  easy  fa 
miliarity  about  their  talks  were  more  at  home  than 
she.  It  had  kept  her  wits  busy  to  meet  the  situa 
tion.  But .  now  that  she  had  got  over  her  first 
awkwardness,  she  found  the  new  order  of  things 
greatly  to  her  liking.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life 
she  was  moving  in  a  world  of  beautiful  objects, 
agreeable  sounds,  untroubled  relations,  and  that 
starved  side  of  her  that  from  the  first  had  cried  out 
for  order  and  beauty  and  harmony  fed  ravenously 
upon  the  luxury  around  her. 

And  this  was  what  Mac  was  offering  her, —  her, 
Nance  Molloy  of  Calvary  Alley, —  who  up  to  four 
years  ago  had  never  known  anything  but  bare  floors, 
flickering  gas-jets,  noise,  dirt,  confusion.  He 
wanted  her  to  marry  him ;  he  needed  her. 

She  ceased  to  listen  to  his  rambling  talk,  her  eyes 
rested  dreamily  on  the  glowing  back-log.  After  all 
did  n't  every  woman  want  to  marry  and  have  a  home 
of  her  own,  and  later  perhaps  —  Twenty- four  at 
Christmas!  Almost  an  old  maid!  And  to  think 
Mr.  Mac  had  gone  on  caring  for  her  all  these  years, 
that  he  still  wanted  her  when  he  had  all  those  girls 


374  CALVARY  ALLEY 

in  his  own  world  to  choose  from.  Not  many  men 
were  constant  like  that,  she  thought,  as  an  old 
memory  stabbed  her. 

Then  she  was  aware  that  her  hand  was  held  fast 
to  a  hot  cheek,  and  that  a  pair  of  burning  eyes  were 
watching  her. 

"  Nance!  "  Mac  whispered  eagerly,  "  you  're  giv 
ing  in !  You  're  going  with  me !  " 

A  step  in  the  hall  made  Nance  scramble  to  her 
feet  just  before  Mrs.  Clarke  came  in  from  the  din 
ing-room. 

"  I  thought  we  should  never  get  through  din 
ner  !  "  said  that  lady,  with  an  impatient  sigh.  "  The 
bishop  can  talk  of  nothing  else  but  his  new  hobby, 
and  do  you  know  he 's  actually  persuaded  your 
father  to  give  one  of  the  tenements  back  of  the 
cathedral  for  the  free  clinic !  " 

Nance  who  was  starting  out  with  the  tray,  put 
it  down  suddenly. 

"  How  splendid !  "  she  cried.  "  Which  house  is 
it?" 

"  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure.  But  they  are  going 
to  put  a  lot  of  money  into  doing  it  over,  and  Dr. 
Adair  has  offered  to  take  entire  charge  of  it.  For 
my  part  I  think  it  is  a  great  mistake.  Just  think 
what  that  money  would  mean  to  our  poor  mission 
out  in  Mukden!  These  shiftless  people  here  at 
home  have  every  chance  to  live  decently.  It 's  not 


HER  FIRST  CASE  375 

our  fault  if  they  refuse  to  take  advantage  of  their 
opportunities." 

"But  they  don't  know  how,  Mrs.  Clarke!  If 
Dr.  Adair  could  teach  the  mothers — " 

Mrs.  Clarke  lifted  her  hands  in  laughing  protest. 

"  My  dear  girl,  don't  you  know  that  mothers 
can't  be  taught?  The  most  ignorant  mother  alive 
has  more  instinctive  knowledge  of  what  is  good  for 
her  child  than  any  man  that  ever  lived!  Mac, 
dearest,  why  did  n't  you  eat  your  grapes  ?  v 

"  Because  I  loathe  grapes.  Nance  is  going  to 
work  them  off  on  an  old  sick  man  she  knows." 

"  Some  one  at  the  hospital  ?  "  Mrs.  Clarke  asked 
idly. 

"  No,"  said  Nance,  "  it 's  an  old  gentleman  who 
lives  down  in  the  very  place  we  're  talking  about. 
He  's  been  sick  for  weeks.  It 's  all  right  about  the 
grapes  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course.  Take  some  oranges,  too,  and 
tell  the  gardener  to  give  you  some  flowers.  The 
dahlias  are  going  to  waste  this  year.  Mac,  you  look 
tired!" 

He  shook  off  her  hand  impatiently. 

"  No,  I  'm  not.  I  feel  like  a  two-year  old. 
Nance  thinks  perhaps  she  may  go  with  us  after 
all." 

"  Of  course  she  will!  "  said  Mrs.  Clarke,  with  a 
confident  smile  at  the  girl.  "  We  are  going  to  be 


376  CALVARY  ALLEY 

so  good  to  her  that  she  will  not  have  the  heart  to 
refuse." 

Mrs.  Clarke  with  her  talent  for  self-deception 
had  almost  convinced  herself  that  Nance  was  a 
fairy  princess  who  had  languished  in  a  nether  world 
of  obscurity  until  Mac's  magic  smile  had  restored 
her  to  her  own. 

Nance  evaded  an  answer  by  fleeing  to  the  white 
and  red  breakfast-room  where  the  butler  was  laying 
the  cloth  for  her  dinner.  As  a  rule  she  enjoyed 
these  tete-a-tetes  with  the  butler.  He  was  a  solemn 
and  pretentious  Englishman  whom  she  delighted 
in  shocking  by  acting  and  talking  in  a  manner  that 
was  all  too  natural  to  her.  But  to-night  she  sub 
mitted  quite  meekly  to  his  lordly  condescension. 

She  ate  her  dinner  in  dreamy  abstraction,  her 
thoughts  on  Mac  and  the  enticing  prospects  he  had 
held  out.  After  all  what  was  the  use  in  fighting 
against  all  the  kindness  and  affection?  If  they 
were  willing  to  take  the  risk  of  her  going  with  them, 
why  should  she  hesitate  ?  They  knew  she  was  poor 
and  uneducated  and  not  of  their  world,  and  they 
could  n't  help  seeing  that  Mac  was  in  love  with  her. 
And  still  they  wanted  her. 

California!  Honolulu!  Queer  far-off  lands 
full  of  queer  people!  Big  ships  that  would  carry 
her  out  of  the  sight  and  sound  of  Calvary  Alley 
forever !  And  Mac,  well  and  happy,  making  a  man 


HER  FIRST  CASE  377 

of  himself,  giving  her  everything  in  the  world  she 
wanted. 

Across  her  soaring  thoughts  struck  the  voices 
from  the  adjoining  dining-room,  Mr.  Clarke's  sharp 
and  incisive,  the  bishop's  suave  and  unctious.  Sud 
denly  a  stray  sentence  arrested  her  attention  and 
she  listened  with  her  glass  half-way  to  her  lips. 

"  It  is  the  labor  question  that  concerns  us  more 
than  the  war,"  Mr.  Clarke  was  saying.  u  I  have 
just  succeeded  in  signing  up  with  a  man  I  have 
been  after  for  four  years.  He  is  a  chap  named 
Lewis,  the  only  man  in  this  part  of  the  country  who 
seems  to  be  able  to  cope  with  the  problem  of  union 
labor." 

"  A  son  of  General  Lewis?  " 

"  No,  no.  Just  a  common  workman  who  got  his 
training  at  our  factory.  He  left  me  five  or  six 
years  ago  without  rhyme  or  reason,  and  went  over  to 
the  Ohio  Glass  Works,  where  he  has  made  quite  a 
name  for  himself.  I  had  a  tussle  to  get  him  back, 
but  he  comes  to  take  charge  next  month.  He  is 
one  of  those  rare  men  you  read  about,  but  seldom 
find,  a  practical  idealist." 

Nance  left  her  ice  untouched,  and  slipped  through 
the  back  entry  and  up  to  the  dainty  blue  bedroom 
that  had  been  hers  now  for  three  months.  All  the 
delicious  languor  of  the  past  hour  was  gone,  and 
in  its  place  was  a  turmoil  of  hope  and  fear  and 


378  CALVARY  ALLEY 

doubt.  Dan  was  coming  back.  The  words  beat 
on  her  brain.  He  cared  nothing  for  her,  and  he 
was  married,  and  she  would  never  see  him,  but  he 
was  coming  back. 

She  opened  the  drawer  of  her  dressing  table  and 
took  out  a  small  faded  photograph  which  she  held 
to  -the  silk-shaded  lamp.  It  was  a  cheap  likeness 
of  an  awkward-looking  working-boy  in  his  Sunday 
clothes,  a  stiff  lock  of  unruly  hair  across  his  tem 
ple,  and  a  pair  of  fine  earnest  eyes  looking  out  from 
slightly  scowling  brows. 

Nance  looked  at  it  long  and  earnestly;  then  she 
flung  it  back  in  the  drawer  with  a  sigh  and.  putting 
out  the  light,  went  down  again  to  her  patient. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

MR.    DEMRY 

THE  next  afternoon,  armed  with  her  flowers 
and  fruit,  Nance  was  setting  forth  for  Cal 
vary  Alley,  when  Mrs.  Clarke  called  to  her  from 
an  upper  window. 

"If  you  will  wait  ten  minutes,  I  will  take  you 
down  in  the  machine." 

"  But  I  want  the  walk,"  Nance  insisted.  "  I  need 
the  exercise." 

"  Nonsense,  you  are  on  your  feet  nearly  all  the 
time.  I  won't  be  long." 

Nance  made  a  wry  face  at  an  unoffending  spar 
row  and  glanced  regretfully  at  the  long  white  road 
that  wound  invitingly  in  and  out  of  the  woods  un 
til  it  dropped  sharply  to  the  little  station  in  the  val 
ley  a  mile  below.  She  had  been  looking  forward  to 
that  walk  all  morning.  She  wanted  to  get  away 
from  the  hot-house  atmosphere  of  the  Clarke  es 
tablishment,  away  from  Mac's  incessant  appeals  and 
his  mother's  increasing  dependence.  Aside  from 
amusing  her  patient  and  seeing  that  he  obeyed  Dr. 
Adair's  orders,  her  duties  for  the  past  few  weeks 
had  been  too  light  to  be  interesting.  The  luxury 

379 


380  CALVARY  ALLEY 

that  at  first  had  so  thrilled  her  was  already  begin 
ning  to  pall.  She  wanted  to  be  out  in  the  open 
alone,  to  feel  the  sharp  wind  of  reality  in  her  face, 
while  she  thought  things  out. 

"  I  am  going  to  the  cathedral,"  said  Mrs.  Clarke, 
emerging  from  the  door,  followed  by  a  maid  carry 
ing  coats  and  rugs.  "  But  I  can  drop  you  wher 
ever  you  say." 

"  I  '11  go  there,  too,"  said  Nance  as  she  took  her 
seat  in  the  car.  "  The  old  gentleman  I  'm  taking 
the  things  to  lives  just  back  of  there,  in  the  very 
house  Dr.  Adair  is  trying  to  get  for  the  clinic." 

"  Poor  soul ! "  said  Mrs.  Clarke  idly,  as  she 
viewed  with  approval  Nance's  small  brown  hat  that 
so  admirably  set  off  the  lights  in  her  hair  and  the 
warm  red  tints  of  her  skin. 

"  He  's  been  up  against  it  something  fierce  for 
over  a  year  now,"  Nance  went  on.  "  We  've  helped 
him  all  he  'd  let  us  since  he  stopped  playing  at  the 
theater." 

"  Playing? "  Mrs.  Clarke  repeated  the  one 
word  that  had  caught  her  wandering  attention.  "  Is 
he  an  actor  ?  " 

"  No;  he  is  a  musician.  He  used  to  play  in  big 
orchestras  in  New  York  and  Boston.  He  plays  the 
fiddle." 

For  the  rest  of  the  way  into  town  Mrs.  Clarke 
was  strangely  preoccupied.  She  sat  very  straight, 
with  eyes  slightly  contracted,  and  looked  absently 


MR.  DEMRY  381 

out  of  the  window.  Once  or  twice  she  began  a  sen 
tence  without  finishing  it.  At  the  cathedral  steps 
she  laid  a  detaining  hand  on  Nance's  arm. 

"  By  the  way,  what  did  you  say  was  the  name  of 
the  old  man  you  are  going  to  see  ?  " 

"  I  never  said.     It 's  Demry." 

"  Demry  —  Never  mind,  I  just  missed  the  step. 
I  'm  quite  all  right.  I  think  I  will  go  with  you  to 
see  this  —  this  —  house  they  are  talking  about." 

"  But  it 's  in  the  alley,  Mrs.  Clarke;  it 's  awfully 
dirty." 

"  Yes,  yes,  but  I  'm  coming.  Can  we  go  through 
here?" 

So  impatient  was  she  that  she  did  not  wait  for 
Nance  to  lead  the  way,  but  hurried  around  the 
bishop's  study  and  down  the  concrete  walk  to  the 
gate  that  opened  into  the  alley. 

"  Look  out  for  your  skirt  against  the  garbage 
barrel,"  warned  Nance.  It  embarrassed  her  pro 
foundly  to  have  Mrs.  Clarke  in  these  surroundings; 
she  hated  the  mud  that  soiled  her  dainty  boots, 
the  odors  that  must  offend  her  nostrils,  the  inevitable 
sights  that  awaited  her  in  Number  One.  She  only 
prayed  that  Mrs.  Snawdor's  curl-papered  head 
might  not  appear  on  the  upper  landing. 

"Which  way?"  demanded  Mrs.  Clarke,  impa 
tiently. 

Nance  led  the  way  into  the  dark  hall  where  a 
half-dozen  ragged,  dirty-faced  children  were  trying 


382  CALVARY  ALLEY 

to  drag  a  still  dirtier  pup  up  the  stairs  by  means  of 
a  twine  string. 

"  In  here,  Mrs.  Clarke,"  said  Nance,  pushing 
open  the  door  at  the  left. 

The  outside  shutters  of  the  big  cold  room  were 
partly  closed,  but  the  light  from  between  them  fell 
with  startling  effect  on  the  white,  marble-like  face 
of  the  old  man  who  lay  asleep  on  a  cot  in  front 
of  the  empty  fireplace.  For  a  moment  Mrs.  Clarke 
stood  looking  at  him;  then  with  a  smothered  cry 
she  bent  over  him. 

"  Father !  "  she  cried  sharply.  "  Oh,  God !  It 's 
my  father !  " 

Nance  caught  her  breath  in  amazement;  then 
her  bewildered  gaze  fell  upon  a  familiar  object. 
There,  in  its  old  place  on  the  mantel  stood  the 
miniature  of  a  pink  and  white  maiden  in  the  pink 
and  white  dress,  with  the  golden  curl  across  her 
shoulder.  In  the  delicate,  beautiful  profile  Nance 
read  the  amazing  truth. 

Mr.  Demry  sighed  heavily,  opened  his  eyes  with 
an  effort  and,  looking  past  the  bowed  head  beside 
him,  held  out  a  feeble  hand  for  the  flowers. 

"  Listen,  Mr.  Demry,"  said  Nance,  breathlessly. 
"  Here  's  a  lady  says  she  knows  you.  Somebody 
you  have  n't  seen  for  a  long,  long  time.  Will  you 
look  at  her  and  try  to  remember?  " 

His  eyes  rested  for  the  fraction  of  a  minute  on 
the  agojnized  face  lifted  to  his,  then  closed  wearily. 


MR.  DEMRY  383' 

"  Can  you  not  get  the  lady  a  chair,  Nancy  ?  "  he 
asked  feebly.  "  You  can  borrow  one  from  the 
room  across  the  hall." 

"  Father !  "  demanded  Mrs.  Clarke,  "  don't  you 
know  me?  It  is  Elise.  Your  daughter,  Elise 
Demorest ! " 

"  Demorest,"  he  repeated,  and  smiled.  "  How 
unnatural  it  sounds  now !  Demorest !  " 

"  It 's  no  use,"  said  Nance.  "  His  mind  wanders 
most  of  the  time.  Let  me  take  you  back  to  the 
cathedral,  Mrs.  Clarke,  until  we  decide  what 's  got 
to  be  done." 

"  I  am  going  to  take  him  home,"  said  Mrs.  Clarke, 
wildly.  "  He  shall  have  every  comfort  and  luxury 
I  can  give  him.  Poor  Father,  don't  you  want  to 
come  home  with  Elise  ?  " 

"  I  live  at  Number  One,  Calvary  Alley,"  said  Mr. 
Demry,  clinging  to  the  one  fact  he  had  trained  his 
mind  to  remember.  "  If  you  will  kindly  get  me  to 
the  corner,  the  children  will  — " 

"  It 's  too  late  to  do  anything!  "  cried  Mrs.  Clarke, 
wringing  her  hands.  "  I  knew  something  terrible 
would  happen  to  him.  I  pleaded  with  them  to  help 
me  find  him,  but  they  put  me  off.  Then  I  got  so 
absorbed  in  Mac  that  he  drove  everything  else  out 
of  my  mind.  How  long  has  he  been  in  this  awful 
place  ?  How  long  has  he  been  ill  ?  Who  takes  care 
of  him?" 

Nance,  with  her  arms  about  Mrs.  Clarke,  told  her 


384  CALVARY  ALLEY 

as  gently  as  she  could  of  Mr.  Demry's  advent  into 
the  alley  fourteen  years  before,  of  his  friendship 
with  the  children,  his  occasional  lapses  from  grace, 
and  the  steady  decline  of  his  fortune. 

"  We  must  get  him  away  from  here!  "  cried  Mrs. 
Clarke  when  she  had  gained  control  of  herself. 
"  Go  somewhere  and  telephone  Mr.  Clarke.  Tele 
phone  Dr.  Adair.  Tell  him  to  bring  an  ambulance 
and  another  nurse  and  —  and  plenty  of  blankets. 
Telephone  to  the  house  for  them  to  get  a  room 
ready.  But  wait  —  there  's  Mac  —  he  must  n't 
know  — " 

It  was  the  old,  old  mother-cry!  Keep  it  from 
Mac,  spare  Mac,  don't  let  Mac  suffer.  Nance 
seized  on  it  now  to  further  her  designs. 

"  You  go  back  to  Mr.  Mac,  Mrs.  Clarke.  I  '11 
stay  here  and  attend  to  everything.  You  go  ahead 
and  get  things  ready  for  us." 

And  Mrs.  Clarke,  used  to  taking  the  easiest  way, 
allowed  herself  to  be  persuaded,  and  after  one  agon 
ized  look  at  the  tranquil  face  on  the  pillow,  hurried 
away. 

Nance,  shivering  \vith  the  cold,  got  together  the 
few  articles  that  constituted  Mr.  Demry's  worldly 
possessions.  A  few  shabby  garments  in  the  old 
wardrobe,  the  miniature  on  the  shelf,  a  stack  of 
well-worn  books,  and  the  violin  in  its  rose-wood 
case.  Everything  else  had  been  sold  to  keep  the 
feeble  flame  alive  in  that  wasted  old  form. 


MR.  DEMRY  385 

Nance  looked  about  her  with  swimming  eyes. 
She  recalled  the  one  happy  Christmas  that  her 
childhood  had  known.  The  gay  garlands  of  tissue 
paper,  the  swinging  lanterns,  the  shelf  full  of 
oranges  and  doughnuts,  and  the  beaming  old  face 
smiling  over  the  swaying  fiddle  bow !  And  to  think 
that  Mrs.  Clarke's  own  father  had  hidden  away  here 
all  these  years,  utterly  friendless  except  for  the 
children,  poor  to  the  point  of  starvation,  sick  to 
the  point  of  death,  grappling  with  his  great  weak 
ness  in  heroic  silence,  and  going  down  to  utter  ob 
livion  rather  than  obtrude  his  misfortune  upon  the 
one  he  loved  best. 

As  the  old  man's  fairy  tales  had  long  ago  stirred 
Nance's  imagination  and  wakened  her  to  the  beauty 
of  invisible  things,  so  now  his  broken,  futile  life, 
with  its  one  great  glory  of  renunciation,  called  out 
to  the  soul  of  her  and  roused  in  her  a  strange,  new 
sense  of  spiritual  beauty. 

For  one  week  he  lived  among  the  luxurious  sur 
roundings  of  his  daughter's  home.  Everything  that 
skill  and  money  could  do,  was  done  to  restore  him 
to  health  and  sanity.  But  he  saw  only  the  sordid 
sights  he  had  been  seeing  for  the  past  fourteen 
years ;  he  heard  only  the  sounds  to  which  his  old  ears 
had  become  accustomed. 

"  You  would  better  move  my  cot,  Nancy,"  he 
would  say,  plucking  at  the  silken  coverlid.  "  They 
are  scrubbing  the  floor  up  in  the  Lavinski  flat.  The 


386  CALVARY  ALLEY 

water  always  comes  through."  And  again  he 
would  say :  "  It  is  nice  and  warm  in  here,  but  1 
am  afraid  you  are  burning  too  much  coal,  dear.  I 
cannot  get  another  bucket  until  Saturday." 

One  day  Mrs.  Clarke  saw  him  take  from  his  tray, 
covered  with  delicacies,  a  half-eaten  roll  and  slip 
it  under  his  pillow. 

"  We  must  save  it,"  he  whispered  confidentially, 
"  save  it  for  to-morrow."  In  vain  they  tried  to 
reassure  him ;  the  haunting  poverty  that  had  stalked 
beside  him  in  life  refused  to  be  banished  by  death. 

Mrs.  Clarke  remained  "  the  lady  "  to  him  to  the 
end.  When  he  spoke  to  her,  his  manner  assumed 
a  faint  dignity,  with  a  slight  touch  of  gallantry,  the 
unmistakable  air  of  a  gentleman  of  the  old  school 
towards  an  attractive  stranger  of  the  opposite  sex. 

His  happiest  hours  were  those  when  he  fancied 
the  children  were  with  him. 

"  Gently!  gently!  "  he  would  say;  "  there  is  room 
for  everybody.  This  knee  is  for  Gussie  Gorman, 
this  one  for  Joe,  because  they  are  the  smallest,  you 
know.  Now  are  you  ready  ?  "  And  then  he  would 
whisper  fairy  stories,  smiling  at  the  ceiling,  and 
making  feebles  gestures  with  his  wasted  old  hands. 

The  end  came  one  day  after  he  had  lain  for 
hours  in  a  stupor.  He  stirred  suddenly  and  asked 
for  his  violin. 

"  I  must  go  —  to  the  —  theater,  Nancy,"  he  mur- 


MR.  DEMRY  387 

mured.  "I  —  do  not  want  —  to  be  —  a  —  bur 
den." 

They  laid  the  instrument  in  his  arms,  and  his 
fingers  groped  feebly  over  the  strings ;  then  his  chin 
sank  into  its  old  accustomed  place,  and  a  great  light 
dawned  in  his  eyes.  Mr.  Demry,  who  was  used  to 
seeing  invisible  things,  had  evidently  caught  the 
final  vision. 

That  night,  worn  with  nursing  and  full  of  grief 
for  the  passing  of  her  old  friend,  Nance  threw  a 
coat  about  her  and  slipped  out  on  the  terrace. 
Above  her,  nebulous  stars  were  already  appearing, 
and  their  twinkling  was  answered  by  responsive 
gleams  in  the  city  below.  Against  the  velvety  dusk 
two  tall  objects  towered  in  the  distance,  the  beau 
tiful  Gothic  spire  of  the  cathedral,  and  the  tall,  un 
seemly  gas  pipe  of  Clarke's  Bottle  Factory.  Be 
tween  them,  under  a  haze  of  smoke  and  grime,  lay 
Calvary  Alley. 

"  I  don't  know  which  is  worse,"  thought  Nance 
fiercely,  "  to  be  down  there  in  the  mess,  fighting 
and  struggling  and  suffering  to  get  the  things 
you  want,  or  up  here  with  the  mummies  who  have  n't 
got  anything  left  to  wish  for.  I  wish  life  wasn't 
just  a  choice  between  a  little  hard  green  apple  and 
a  rotten  big  one !  " 

She  leaned  her  elbows  on  the  railing  and  watched 
the  new  moon  dodging  behind  the  tree  trunks  and, 


388  CALVARY  ALLEY 

as  she  watched,  she  grappled  with  the  problem  of 
life,  at  first  bitterly  and  rebelliously,  then  with  a 
dawning  comprehension  of  its  meaning.  After 
all  was  the  bishop,  with  his  conspicuous  virtues  and 
his  well-known  dislike  of  children,  any  better  than 
old  Mr.  Demry,  with  his  besetting  sin  and  his  beau 
tiful  influence  on  every  child  with  whom  he  came 
in  contact?  Was  Mr.  Clarke,  working  children 
under  age  in  the  factory  to  build  up  a  great  for 
tune  for  his  son,  very  different  from  Mr.  Lavinski, 
with  his  sweat-shop,  hoarding  pennies  for  the  am 
bitious  Ikey?  Was  Mrs.  Clarke,  shirking  her  duty 
to  her  father,  any  happier  or  any  better  than  Mrs. 
Snawdor,  shirking  hers  to  her  children?  Was  Mac, 
adored  and  petted  and  protected,  any  better  than 
Birdie,  now  in  the  state  asylum  paying  the  penalty  of 
their  joint  misdeed?  Was  the  tragedy  in  the  great 
house  back  of  her  any  more  poignant  than  the  trag 
edy  of  Dan  Lewis  bound  by  law  to  an  insane  wife 
and  burdened  with  a  child  that  "was  not  his  own? 
She  seemed  to  see  for  the  first  time  the  great  illu 
minating  truth  that  the  things  that  make  men  alike 
in  the  world  are  stronger  than  the  things  that  make 
them  different.  And  in  this  realization  an  over 
whelming  ambition  seized  her.  Some  hidden  spir 
itual  force  rose  to  lift  her  out  of  the  contemplation 
of  her  own  interests  into  something  of  ultimate 
value  to  her  fellowmen. 

After  all,  those  people  down   there  in  Calvary 


MR.  DEMRY  389 

Alley  were  her  people,  and  she  meant  to  stand  by 
them.  It  had  been  the  dream  of  her  life  to  get 
out  and  away,  but  in  that  moment  she  knew  that 
wherever  she  went,  she  would  always  come  back. 
Others  might  help  from  the  top,  but  she  could  help 
understandingly  from  the  bottom.  With  the  mag 
nificent  egotism  of  youth,  she  outlined  gigantic 
schemes  on  the  curtain  of  the  night.  Some  day, 
somehow,  she  would  make  people  like  the  Clarkes 
see  the  life  of  the  poor  as  it  really  was,  she  would 
speak  for  the  girls  in  the  factories,  in  the  sweat 
shops,  on  the  stage.  She  would  be  an  interpreter 
between  the  rich  and  the  poor  and  make  them  serve 
each  other. 

"Nance!"  called  an  injured  voice  from  the 
music  room  behind  her,  "  what  in  the  mischief 
are  you  doing  out  there  in  the  cold?  Come  on  in 
here  and  amuse  me.  I  'm  half  dead  with  the 
dumps !  " 

"  All  right,  Mr.  Mac.  I  'm  coming,"  she  said 
cheerfully,  as  she  stepped  in  through  the  French 
window  and  closed  it  against  her  night  of  dreams. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE   NEW    FOREMAN 

THE  Dan  Lewis  who  came  back  to  Clarke's 
Bottle  Factory  was  a  very  different  man 
from  the  one  who  had  walked  out  of  it  five  years 
before.  He  had  gone  out  a  stern,  unforgiving, 
young  ascetic,  accepting  no  compromise,  demand 
ing  perfection  of  himself  and  of  his  fellow-men. 
The  very  sublimity  of  his  dream  doomed  it  to  fail 
ure.  Out  of  the  crumbling  ideals  of  his  boyhood 
he  had  struggled  to  a  foothold  on  life  that  had 
never  been  his  in  the  old  days.  His  marriage  to 
Birdie  Smelts  had  been  the  fiery  furnace  in  which 
his  soul  had  been  softened  to  receive  the  final  stamp 
of  manhood. 

For  his  hour  of  indiscretion  he  had  paid  to  the 
last  ounce  of  his  strength  and  courage.  After  that 
night  in  the  lodging-house,  there  seemed  to  him 
but  one  right  course,  and  he  took  it  with  unflinching 
promptness.  Even  when  Birdie,  secure  in  the  pro 
tection  of  his  name  and  his  support,  lapsed  into  her 
old  vain,  querulous  self,  he  valiantly  bore  his  bur 
den,  taking  any  menial  work  that  he  could  find  to 

390 


THE  NEW  FOREMAN  391 

do,  and  getting  a  sort  of  grim  satisfaction  out  of 
what  he  regarded  as  expiation  for  his  sin. 

But  when  he  became  aware  of  Birdie's  con 
dition  and  realized  the  use  she  had  made  of  him, 
the  tragedy  broke  upon  him  in  all  of  its  horror. 
Then  he,  too,  lost  sight  of  the  shore  lights,  and 
went  plunging  desperately  into  the  stream  of  life 
with  no  visible  and  sustaining  ideal  to  guide  his 
course,  but  only  the  fighting  necessity  to  get  across 
as  decently  as  possible. 

After  a  long  struggle  he  secured  a  place  in  the 
Ohio  Glass  Works,  where  his  abilities  soon  began 
to  be  recognized.  Instead  of  working  now  with 
tingling  enthusiasm  for  Nance  and  the  honeysuckle 
cottage,  he  worked  doggedly  and  furiously  to  meet 
the  increasing  expense  of  Birdie's  wastefulness  and 
the  maintenance  of  her  child. 

Year  by  year  he  forged  ahead,  gaining  a  reputa 
tion  for  sound  judgment  and  fair  dealing  that  made 
him  an  invaluable  spokesman  between  the  employer 
and  the  employed.  He  set  himself  seriously  to 
work  to  get  at  the  real  conditions  that  were  causing 
the  ferment  of  unrest  among  the  working  classes. 
He  made  himself  familiar  with  socialistic  and  labor 
newspapers;  he  attended  mass  meetings;  he  laid 
awake  nights  reading  and  wrestling  with  the  prob 
lems  of  organized  industrialism.  His  honest  re 
sentment  against  the  injustice  shown  the  laboring 
man  was  always  nicely  balanced  by  his  intolerance 


392  CALVARY  ALLEY 

of  the  haste  and  ignorance  and  misrepresentation 
of  the  labor  agitators.  He  was  one  of  the  few 
men  who  could  be  called  upon  to  arbitrate  differ 
ences,  whom  both  factions  invariably  pronounced 
"  square."  When  pressure  was  brought  to  bear 
upon  him  to  return  to  Clarke's,  he  was  in  a  posi 
tion  to  dictate  his  own  terms. 

It  was  the  second  week  after  his  reinstatement 
that  he  came  up  to  the  office  one  day  and  unex 
pectedly  encountered  Nance  Molloy.  At  first  he 
did  not  recognize  the  tall  young  lady  in  the  well- 
cut  brown  suit  with  the  bit  of  fur  at  the  neck  and 
wrists  and  the  jaunty  brown  hat  with  its  dash  of 
gold.  Then  she  looked  up,  and  it  was  Nance's  old 
smile  that  flashed  out  at  him,  and  Nance's  old  im 
pulsive  self  that  turned  to  greet  him. 

For  one  radiant  moment  all  that  had  happened 
since  they  last  stood  there  was  swept  out  of  the 
memory  of  each;  then  it  came  back;  and  they  shook 
hands  awkwardly  and  could  find  little  to  say  to  each 
other  in  the  presence  of  the  strange  stenographer 
who  occupied  Nance's  old  place  at  the  desk  by  the 
window. 

"  They  told  me  you  were  n't  working  here,"  said 
Dan  at  length. 

"  I  'm  not.  I  've  just  come  on  an  errand  for 
Mrs.  Clarke." 

Dan's  eyes  searched  hers  in  swift  inquiry. 

"  I  'm  a  trained  nurse  now,"  she  said,  determined 


THE  NEW  FOREMAN  393 

to  take  the  situation  lightly.  "  You  remember  how 
crazy  I  used  to  be  about  doping  people  ?  " 

He  did  not  answer,  and  she  hurried  on  as  if 
afraid  of  any  silence  that  might  fall  between  them. 

"  It  all  started  with  the  smallpox  in  Calvary 
Alley.  Been  back  there,  Dan  ?  " 

"  Not  yet." 

"  Lots  of  changes  since  the  old  days.  Mr.  Snaw- 
dor  and  Fidy  and  Mrs.  Smelts  and  Mr.  Demry  all 
gone.  Have  you  heard  about  Mr.  Demry  ?  " 

Dan  shook  his  head.  He  was  not  listening  to 
her,  but  he  was  looking  at  her  searchingly,  brood- 
ingly,  with  growing  insistence. 

The  hammering  of  the  type-writer  was  the  only 
sound  that  broke  the  ensuing  pause. 

"  Tell  me  your  news,  Dan,"  said  Nance  in  des 
peration.  "  Where  you  living  now  ?  " 

"  At  Mrs.  Purdy's.  She  's  going  to  take  care  of 
Ted  for  me." 

"Ted?  Oh!  I  forgot.  How  old  is  he 
now?" 

For  the  first  time  Dan's  face  lit  up  with  his  fine, 
rare  smile. 

"  He  's  four,  Nance,  and  the  smartest  kid  that 
ever  lived !  You  'd  be  crazy  about  him,  I  know. 
I  wonder  if  you  could  n't  go  out  there  some  day 
and  see  him?  " 

Nance  showed  no  enthusiasm  over  the  sugges 
tion;  instead  she  gathered  up  her  muff  and  gloves 


394  CALVARY  ALLEY 

and,  leaving  a  message  for  Mr.  Clarke  with  the 
stenographer,  prepared  to  depart. 

"  I  am  thinking  about  going  away,"  she  said.  "  I 
may  go  out  to  California  next  week." 

The  brief  enthusiasm  died  out  of  Dan's  face. 

"  What 's  taking  you  to  California?"  he  asked 
dully,  as  he  followed  her  into  the  hall. 

"  I  may  go  with  a  patient.  Have  you  heard  of 
the  trouble  they  're  in  at  the  Clarkes'  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  It 's  Mr.  Mac.  He 's  got  tuberculosis,  and 
they  are  taking  him  out  to  the  coast  for  a  year. 
They  want  me  to  go  along." 

Dan's  face  hardened. 

"  So  it 's  Mac  Clarke  still  ?  "  he  asked  bitterly. 

His  tone  stung  Nance  to  the  quick,  and  she 
wheeled  on  him  indignantly. 

"  See  here,  Dan !  I  've  got  to  put  you  straight  on 
a  thing  or  two.  Where  can  we  go  to  have  this 
business  out?  " 

He  led  her  across  the  hall  to  his  own  small  office 
and  closed  the  door. 

"  I  'm  going  to  tell  you  something,"  she  said, 
facing  him  with  blazing  eyes,  "  and  I  don't  care  a 
hang  whether  you  believe  it  or  not.  I  never  was 
in  love  with  Mac  Clarke.  From  the  day  you  left 
this  factory  I  never  saw  or  wrote  to  him  until  he 
was  brought  to  the  hospital  last  July,  and  I  was 
put  on  the  case.  I  did  n't  have  anything  more  to 


THE  NEW  FOREMAN  395 

do  with  him  than  I  did  with  you.     I  guess  you 
know  how  much  that  was !  " 

"  What  about  now  ?  Are  you  going  west  with 
him?" 

Dan  confronted  her  with  the  same  stern  inquiry 
in  his  eyes  that  had  shone  there  the  day  they  parted, 
in  this  very  place,  five  years  ago. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  am  or  not ! "  cried 
Nance,  firing  up.  "  They  've  done  everything  for 
me,  the  Clarkes  have.  They  think  his  getting  well 
depends  on  me.  Of  course  that 's  rot,  but  that 's 
what  they  think.  As  for  Mr.  Mac  himself  — " 

"  Is  he  still  in  love  with  you?  " 

At  this  moment  a  boy  thrust  his  head  in  the  door 
to  say  that  Dr.  Adair  had  telephoned  for  Miss  Mol- 
loy  to  come  by  the  hospital  before  she  returned  to 
Hillcrest. 

Nance  pulled  on  her  gloves  and,  with  chin  in  the 
air,  was  departing  without  a  word,  when  Dan 
stopped  her. 

"  I  'm  sorry  I  spoke  to  you  like  that,  Nance,"  he 
said,  scowling  at  the  floor.  "  I  've  got  no  right  to 
be  asking  you  questions,  or  criticizing  what  you  do, 
or  where  you  go.  I  hope  you  '11  excuse  me." 

'  You  have  got  the  right !  "  declared  Nance,  with 
one  of  her  quick  changes  of  mood.  "  You  can  ask 
me  anything  you  like.  I  guess  we  can  always  be 
friends,  can't  we?  " 

"  No,"  said  Dan,  slowly,  "  I  don't  think  we  can. 


396  CALVARY  ALLEY 

I  did  n't  count  on  seeing  you  like  this,  just  us  two 
together,  alone.  I  thought  you  'd  be  married  maybe 
or  moved  away  some  place." 

It  was  Nance's  time  to  be  silent,  and  she  listened 
with  wide  eyes  and  parted  lips. 

"  I  must  n't  see  you  —  alone  —  any  more, 
Nance,"  Dan  went  on  haltingly.  "  But  while  we 
are  here  I  want  to  tell  you  about  it.  Just  this  once, 
Nance,  if  you  don't  mind." 

He  crossed  over  and  stood  before  her,  his  hands 
gripping  a  chair  back. 

"  When  I  went  away  from  here,"  he  began,  "  I 
thought  you  had  passed  me  up  for  Mac  Clarke.  It 
just  put  me  out  of  business,  Nance.  I  did  n't  care 
where  I  went  or  what  I  did.  Then  one  night  in  Cin 
cinnati  I  met  Birdie,  and  she  was  up  against  it,  too 
-and—" 

After  all  he  couldn't  make  a  clean  breast  of  it! 
Whatever  he  might  say  would  reflect  on  Birdie,  and 
he  gave  the  explanation  up  in  despair.  But  Nance 
came  to  his  rescue. 

"  I  know,  Dan,"  she  said.  "  Mrs.  Smelts  told 
me  everything.  I  don't  know  another  fellow  in  the 
world  that  would  have  stood  by  a  girl  like  you  did 
Birdie.  She  ought  n't  have  let  you  marry  her  with 
out  telling  you." 

"  I  think  she  meant  to  give  me  my  freedom  when 
the  baby  came,"  said  Dan.  "  At  least  that  was 
what  she  promised  I  could  n't  have  lived  through 


THE  NEW  FOREMAN  397 

those  first  months  of  hell  if  I  had  n't  thought  there 
was  some  way  out.  But  when  the  baby  came,  it 
was  too  late.  Her  mind  was  affected,  and  by  the 
law  of  the  State  I  'm  bound  to  her  for  the  rest  of 
her  life." 

"  Do  you  know  —  who  —  who  the  baby's  father 
is,  Dan?" 

"  No.  She  refused  from  the  first  to  tell  me,  and 
now  I'm. glad  I  don't  know.  She  said  the  baby 
was  like  him,  and  that  made  her  hate  it.  That  was 
the  way  her  trouble  started.  She  would  n't  wash 
the  little  chap,  or  feed  him,  or  look  after  him  when 
he  was  sick.  I  had  to  do  everything.  For  a  year 
she  kept  getting  worse  and  worse,  until  one  night 
I  caught  her  trying  to  set  fire  to  his  crib.  Of  course 
alter  that  she  had  to  be  sent  to  the  asylum,  and  from 
that  time  on,  Ted  and  I  fought  it  out  together. 
One  of  the  neighbors  took  charge  of  him  in  the  day, 
and  I  wrestled  with  him  at  night." 

"  Couldn't  you  put  him  in  an  orphan  asylum?  " 

Dan  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  I  could  n't  go  back  on  him  when  he  was 
up  against  a  deal  like  that.  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  I  'd  never  let  him  get  lonesome  like  I  used  to 
be,  with  nobody  to  care  a  hang  what  became  of  him. 
He  's  got  my  name  now,  and  he  '11  never  know  the 
difference  if  I  can  help  it." 

"  And  Birdie  ?  Does  she  know  you  when  you  go 
to  see  her? " 


398  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  Not  for  two  years  now.  It 's  easier  than  when 
she  did." 

There  was  silence  between  them;  then  Nance 
said: 

"  I  'm  glad  you  told  me  all  this,  Dan.  I  —  I 
wish  I  could  help  you." 

"  You  can't,"  said  Dan,  sharply.  "  Don't  you 
see  I  've  got  no  right  to  be  with  you  ?  Do  you  sup 
pose  there  's  been  a  week,  or  a  day  in  all  these  years 
that  I  have  n't  wanted  you  with  every  breath  I 
drew?  The  rest  was  just  a  nightmare  I  was  liv 
ing  through  in  order  to  wake  up  and  find  you. 
Nance  —  I  love  you !  With  my  heart  and  soul  and 
body!  You  've  been  the  one  beautiful  thing  in  my 
whole  life,  and  I  was  n't  worthy  of  you.  I  can't 
let  you  go!  I —  Oh,  God!  what  am  I  saying? 
What  right  have  I  —  Don't  let  me  see  you  again 
like  this,  Nance,  don't  let  me  talk  to  you  - 

He  stumbled  to  a  chair  by  the  desk  and  buried 
his  head  in  his  arms.  His  breath  came  in  short, 
hard  gasps,  with  a  long  agonizing  quiver  between, 
and  his  broad  shoulders  heaved.  It  was  the  first 
time  he  had  wept  since  that  night,  so  long  ago,  when 
he  had  sat  in  the  gutter  in  front  of  Slap  Jack's  sa 
loon  and  broken  his  heart  over  an  erring  mother. 

For  one  tremulous  second  Nance  hovered  over 
him,  her  face  aflame  with  sympathy  and  almost 
maternal  pity;  then  she  pulled  herself  together  and 
said  brusquely: 


THE  NEW  FOREMAN  399 

"  It 's  all  right,  Danny.  I  understand.  I  'm  go 
ing.  Good-by." 

And  without  looking  back,  she  fled  into  the  hall 
and  down  the  steps  to  the  waiting  motor. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

NANCE   COMES   INTO    HER    OWN 

FOR  two  hours  Nance  was  closeted  with  Dr. 
Adair  in  his  private  office,  and  when  she 
came  out  she  had  the  look  of  one  who  has  been  fol 
lowing  false  trails  and  suddenly  discovers  the  right 
one. 

"  Don't  make  a  hasty  decision,"  warned  Dr. 
Adair  in  parting.  "  The  trip  with  the  Clarkes 
will  be  a  wonderful  experience;  they  may  be  gone 
a  year  or  more,  and  they  '11  do  everything  and  see 
everything  in  the  approved  way.  What  I  am  pro 
posing  offers  no  romance.  It  will  be  hard  work 
and  plenty  of  it.  You  'd  better  think  it  over  and 
give  me  your  answer  to-morrow." 

"  I  '11  give  it  to  you  now,"  said  Nance.  "  It 's 
yes." 

He  scrutinized  her  quizzically;  then  he  held  out 
his  hand  with  its  short,  thick,  surgeon's  fingers. 

"  It 's  a  wise  decision,  my  dear,"  he  said.  "  Say 
nothing  about  it  at  present.  I  will  make  it  all  right 
with  the  Clarkes." 

During  the  weeks  that  followed,  Nance  was  too 
400 


COMES  INTO  HER  OWN  401 

busy  to  think  of  herself  or  her  own  affairs.  She 
superintended  the  shopping  and  packing  for  Mrs. 
Clarke;  she  acted  as  private  secretary  for  Mr. 
Clarke;  she  went  on  endless  errands,  and  looked 
after  the  innumerable  details  that  a  family  migra 
tion  entails. 

Mac,  sulking  on  the  couch,  feeling  grossly 
abused  and  neglected,  spent  most  of  his  time  in 
veighing  against  Dr.  Adair.  "  He  's  got  to  let  you 
come  out  by  the  end  of  next  month,"  he  threatened 
Nance,  "  or  I  '11  take  the  first  train  home. 
What 's  he  got  up  his  sleeve  anyhow  ?  " 

"  Ask  him,"  advised  Nance,  over  her  shoulder, 
as  she  vanished  into  the  hall. 

Toward  the  end  of  November  the  Clarkes  took 
their  departure;  father,  mother,  and  son, "two  serv 
ants,  and  the  despised,  but  efficient  Miss  Hanna. 
Nance  went  down  to  see  them  off,  hovering  over 
the  unsuspecting  Mac  with  feelings  of  mingled  re 
lief  and  contrition. 

"  I  wish  you  'd  let  me  tell  him,"  she  implored 
Mrs.  Clarke.  "  He  's  bound  to  know  soon.  Why 
not  get  it  over  with  now  ?  " 

Mrs.  Clarke  was  in  instant  panic. 

"  Not  a  word,  I  implore  you !  We  will  break 
the  news  to  him  when  he  is  better.  Be  good  to 
him  now,  let  him  go  away  happy.  Please,  dear, 
for  my  sake !  "  With  the  strength  of  the  weak, 
she  carried  her  point. 


402  CALVARY  ALLEY 

For  the  quarter  of  an  hour  before  the  train 
started,  Nance  resolutely  kept  the  situation  in  hand, 
not  giving  Mac  a  chance  to  speak  to  her  alone,  and 
keeping  up  a  running  fire  of  nonsense  that  provoked 
even  Mr.  Clarke  to  laughter.  When  the  "  All 
Aboard !  "  sounded  from  without,  there  was  scant 
time  for  good-bys.  She  hurried  out,  and  when  on 
the  platform,  turned  eagerly  to  scan  the  windows 
above  her.  A  gust  of  smoke  swept  between  her 
and  the  slow-moving  train ;  then  as  it  cleared  she 
caught  her  last  glimpse  of  a  gay  irresponsible  face 
propped  about  with  pillows  and  a  thin  hand  that 
threw  her  kisses  as  far  as  she  could  see. 

It  was  with  a  curious  feeling  of  elation  mingled 
with  depression,  that  she  tramped  back  to  the  hos 
pital  through  the  gloom  of  that  November  day. 
Until  a  month  ago  she  had  scarcely  had  a  thought 
beyond  Mac  and  the  progress  of  his  case;  even  now 
she  missed  his  constant  demands  upon  her,  and  her 
heart  ached  for  the  disappointment  that  awaited 
him.  But  under  these  disturbing  thoughts  some 
thing  new  and  strange  and  beautiful  was  calling 
her. 

Half  mechanically  she  spent  the  rest  of  the  after 
noon  reestablishing  herself  in  the  nurses'  quarters 
at  the  hospital  which  she  had  left  nearly  four 
months  before.  At  six  o'clock  she  put  on  the  gray 
cape  and  small  gray  bonnet  that  constituted  her 
uniform,  and  leaving  word  that  she  would  report 


COMES  INTO  HER  OWN  403 

for  duty  at  nine  o'clock,  went  to  the  corner  and 
boarded  a  street  car.  It  was  a  warm  evening  for 
November,  and  the  car  with  its  throng  of  home- 
going  workers  was  close  and  uncomfortable.  But 
Nance,  clinging  to  a  strap,  and  jostled  on  every  side, 
was  superbly  indifferent  to  her  surroundings. 
With  lifted  chin  and  preoccupied  eyes,  she  held 
counsel  with  herself,  sometimes  moving  her  lips 
slightly  as  if  rehearsing  a  part.  At  Butternut 
Lane  she  got  out  and  made  her  way  to  the  old 
white  house  midway  of  the  square. 

A  little  boy  was  perched  on  the  gate  post,  swing 
ing  a  pair  of  fat  legs  and  trying  to  whistle.  There 
was  no  lack  of  effort  on  his  part,  but  the  whistle 
for  some  reason  refused  to  come.  He  tried 
hooking  a  small  finger  inside  the  corners  of  his 
mouth;  he  tried  it  with  teeth  together  and  teeth 
apart. 

Nance,  sympathizing  with  his  thwarted  ambi 
tion,  smiled  as  she  approached ;  then  she  caught  her 
breath.  The  large  brown  eyes  that  the  child 
turned  upon  her  were  disconcertingly  familiar. 

"Is  this  Ted?"  she  asked. 

He  nodded  mistrustfully;  then  after  surveying 
her  gravely,  evidently  thought  better  of  her  and 
volunteered  the  information  that  he  was  waiting 
for  his  daddy. 

"  Where  is  Mrs.  Purdy  ?  "  Nance  asked. 

"  Her  's  making  me  a  gingerbread  man." 


404  CALVARY  ALLEY 

"  I  know  a  story  about  a  gingerbread  man ;  want 
to  hear  it?  " 

"  Is  it  scareful?  "  asked  Ted. 

"  No,  just  funny,"  Nance  assured.  Then  while 
he  sat  very  still  on  the  gate  post,  with  round  eyes 
full  of  wonder,  Nance  stood  in  front  of  him  with 
his  chubby  fists  in  her  hands  and  told  him  one  of 
Mr.  Demry's  old  fairy  tales.  So  absorbed  were 
they  both  that  neither  of  them  heard  an  approach 
ing  step  until  it  was  quite  near. 

"  Daddy !  "  cried  Ted,  in  sudden  rapture,  scram 
bling  down  from  the  post  and  hurling  himself 
against  the  new-comer. 

But  for  once  his  daddy's  first  greeting  was 
not  for  him.  Dan  seized  Nance's  outstretched 
hand  and  studied  her  face  with  hungry,  inquiring 
eyes. 

"  I  Ve  come  to  say  good-by,  Dan,"  she  said  in  a 
matter-of-fact  tone. 

His  face  hardened. 

"  Then  you  are  going  with  the  Clarkes  ?  You  've 
decided?" 

"  I  've  decided.  Can't  we  go  over  to  the  sum 
mer-house  for  a  few  minutes.  I  want  to  talk  to 
you." 

They  crossed  the  yard  to  the  sheltered  bower  in 
its  cluster  of  bare  trees,  while  Ted  trudged  behind 
them  kicking  up  clouds  of  dead  leaves  with  his 
small  square-toed  boots. 


COMES  INTO  HER  OWN  405 

"  You  run  in  to  Mother  Purdy,  Teddykins,"  said 
Dan,  but  Nance  caught  the  child's  hand. 

"  Better  keep  him  here,"  she  said  with  an  un 
steady  laugh.  "  I  got  to  get  something  off  my  chest 
once  and  for  all ;  then  I  '11  skidoo." 

But  Ted  had  already  spied  a  squirrel  and  gone 
in  pursuit,  and  Nance's  eyes  followed  him  absently. 

"  When  I  met  you  in  the  office  the  other  day," 
she  said,  "  I  thought  I  could  bluff  it  through.  But 
when  I  saw  you  all  knocked  up  like  that ;  and  knew 
that  you  cared — "  Her  eyes  came  back  to  his. 
"  Dan  we  might  as  well  face  the  truth." 

"  You  mean  — " 

"  I  mean  I  'm  going  to  wait  for  you  if  I  have  to 
wait  forever.  You  're  not  free  now,  but  when 
you  are,  I  '11  come  to  you." 

He  made  one  stride  toward  her  and  swept  her 
into  his  arms. 

"Do  you  mean  it,  girl?"  he  asked,  his  voice 
breaking  with  the  unexpected  joy.  "  You  are  go 
ing  to  stand  by  me?  You  are  going  to  wait?" 

"Let  me  go,  Dan!"  she  implored.  "Where's 
Ted  ?  I  must  n't  stay  —  I  — " 

But  Dan  held  her  as  if  he  never  meant  to  let  her 
go,  and  suddenly  she  ceased  to  struggle  or  to  con 
sider  right  or  wrong  or  consequences.  She  lifted 
her  head  and  her  lips  met  his  in  complete  surrender. 
For  the  first  time  in  her  short  and  stormy  career 
she  had  found  exactly  what  she  wanted. 


406  CALVARY  ALLEY 

For  a  long  time  they  stood  thus;  then  Dan  re 
covered  himself  with  a  start. 

He  pushed  her  away  from  him  almost  roughly. 
"  Nance,  I  did  n't  mean  to !  I  won't  again !  Only 
I  've  wanted  you  so  long,  I  've  been  so  unhappy.  I 
can't  let  you  leave  me  now !  I  can't  let  you  go  with 
the  Clarkes!" 

"  You  don't  have  to.  They  Ve  gone  without 
me." 

"  But  you  said  you  'd  come  to  say  good-by.  I 
thought  you  were  starting  to  California." 

"  Well,  I  'm  not.  I  am  going  to  stay  right  here. 
Dr.  Adair  has  asked  me  to  take  charge  of  the  clinic 
—  the  new  one  they  are  going  to  open  in  Calvary 
Alley." 

"  And  we  're  going  to  be  near  each  other,  able  to 
see  each  other  every  day  — " 

But  she  stopped  him  resolutely. 

"  No,  Dan,  no.  I  knew  we  could  n't  do  that  be 
fore  I  came  to-night.  Now  I  know  it  more  than 
ever.  Don't  you  see  we  got  to  cut  it  all  out  ?  Got 
to  keep  away  from  each  other  just  the  same  as  if 
I  was  in  California  and  you  were  here?" 

Dan's  big  strong  hands  again  seized  hers. 

"  It  won't  be  wrong  for  us  just  to  see  each  other," 
he  urged  hotly.  "  I  promise  never  to  say  a  word 
of  love  or  to  touch  you,  Nance.  What 's  happened 
to-night  need  never  happen  again.  We  can  hold  on 
to  ourselves;  we  can  be  just  good  friends  until — " 


COMES  INTO  HER  OWN  407 

But  Nance  pulled  her  hands  away  impatiently. 

"  You  might.  I  could  n't.  I  tell  you  I  got  to 
keep  away  from  you,  Dan.  Can't  you  see?  Can't 
you  understand  ?  I  counted  on  you  to  see  the  right 
of  it.  I  thought  you  was  going  to  help  me !  "  And 
with  an  almost  angry  sob,  she  sat  down  suddenly 
on  the  leaf-strewn  bench  and,  locking  her  arms 
across  the  railing,  dropped  her  flaming  face  upon 
them. 

For  a  long  time  he  stood  watching  her,  while  his 
face  reflected  the  conflicting  emotions  that  were 
fighting  within  him  for  mastery.  Then  into  his 
eyes  crept  a  look  of  dumb  compassion,  the  same 
look  he  had  once  bent  on  a  passion-tossed  little  girl 
lying  on  the  seat  of  a  patrol-wagon  in  the  chill  dusk 
of  a  Christmas  night. 

He  straightened  his  shoulders  and  laid  a  firm 
hand  on  her  bowed  head. 

"  You  must  stop  crying,  Nance,"  he  commanded 
with  the  stern  tenderness  he  would  have  used  to 
ward  Ted.  "  Perhaps  you  are  right ;  God  knows. 
At  any  rate  we  are  going  to  do  whatever  you  say 
in  this  matter.  I  promise  to  keep  out  of  your  way 
until  you  say  I  can  come." 

Nance  drew  a  quivering  breath,  and  smiled  up 
at  him  through  her  tears. 

'  That 's  not  enough,  Dan;  you  got  to  keep  away 
whether  I  say  to  come  or  not.  You  're  stronger 
and  better  than  what  I  am.  You  got  to  promise 


408  CALVARY  ALLEY 

that  whatever  happens  you  '11  make  me  be  good." 

And  Dan  with  trembling  lips  and  steady  eyes 
made  her  the  solemn  promise. 

Then,  sitting  there  in  the  twilight,  with  only  the 
dropping  of  a  leaf  to  break  the  silence,  they  poured 
out  their  confidences,  eager  to  reach  a  complete  un 
derstanding  in  the  brief  time  they  had  allotted  them 
selves.  In  minute  detail  they  pieced  together  the 
tangled  pattern  of  the  past;  they  poured  out  their 
present  aims  and  ambitions,  coming  back  again  and 
again  to  the  miracle  of  their  new-found  love.  Of 
their  personal  future,  they  dared  not  speak.  It  was 
locked  to  them,  and  death  alone  held  the  key. 

Darkness  had  closed  in  when  the  side  door  of  the 
house  across  the  yard  was  flung  open,  and  a  small 
figure  came  plunging  toward  them  through  the 
crackling  leaves. 

"It's  done,  Daddy!"  cried  an  excited  voice. 
"  It 's  the  cutest  little  gingerbread  man.  And  sup 
per  's  ready,  and  he  's  standing  up  by  my  plate." 

"  All  right !  "  said  Dan,  holding  out  one  hand  to 
him  and  one  to  Nance.  "  We  '11  all  go  in  together  to 
see  the  gingerbread  man." 

"  But,  Dan  — " 

"  Just  this  once ;  it 's  our  good-by  night,  you 
know." 

Nance  hesitated,  then  straightening  the  prim  lit 
tle  gray  bonnet  that  would  assume  a  jaunty  tilt,  she 


COMES  INTO  HER  OWN  409 

followed  the  tall  figure  and  the  short  one  into  the 
halo  of  light  that  circled  the  open  door. 

The  evening  that  followed  was  one  of  those 
rare  times,  insignificant  in  itself,  every  detail  of 
which  was  to  stand  out  in  after  life,  charged  with 
significance.  For  Nance,  the  warmth  and  glow  of 
the  homely  little  house,  with  its  flowered  carpets 
and  gay  curtains,  the  beaming  face  of  old  Mrs. 
Purdy  in.  its  frame  of  silver  curls,  the  laughter  of 
the  happy  child,  and  above  all  the  strong,  tender 
presence  of  Dan,  were  things  never  to  be  forgotten. 

At  eight  o'clock  she  rose  reluctantly,  saying  that 
she  had  to  go  by  the  Snawdors'  before  she  reported 
at  the  hospital  at  nine  o'clock. 

"  Do  you  mind  if  I  go  that  far  with  you  ?  "  asked 
Dan,  wistfully. 

On  their  long  walk  across  the  city  they  said  lit 
tle.  Their  way  led  them  past  many  familiar  places, 
the  school  house,  the  old  armory,  Cemetery  Street, 
Post-Office  Square,  where  they  used  to  sit  and 
watch  the  electric  signs.  Of  the  objects  they  passed, 
Dan  was  superbly  unaware.  He  saw  only  Nance. 
But  she  was  keenly  aware  of  every  old  association 
that  bound  them  toegther.  Everything  seemed 
strangely  beautiful  to  her,  the  glamorous  shop- 
lights  cutting  through  the  violet  gloom,  the  sub 
tle  messages  of  lighted  windows,  the  passing  faces 
of  her  fellow-men.  In  that  gray  world  her  soul 


410  CALVARY  ALLEY 

burned  like  a  brilliant  flame  lighting  up  everything 
around  her. 

As  they  turned  into  Calvary  Alley  the  windows  of 
the  cathedral  glowed  softly  above  them. 

"  I  never  thought  how  pretty  it  was  before !  "  said 
Nance,  rapturously.  "  Say,  Dan,  do  you  know 
what  '  Evol  si  dog  '  means  ?  " 

"No;  is  it  Latin?" 

She  squeezed  his  arm  between  her  two  hands  and 
laughed  gleefully. 

'  You  're  as  bad  as  me,"  she  said,  "  I  'm  not  go 
ing  to  tell  you;  you  got  to  go  inside  and  find  out 
for  yourself." 

On  the  threshold  of  Number  One  they  paused 
again.  Even  the  almost  deserted  old  tenement, 
blushing  under  a  fresh  coat  of  red  paint,  took  on  a 
hue  of  romance. 

"  You  wait  'til  we  get  it  fixed  up,"  said  Nance. 
"  They  're  taking  out  all  the  partitions  in  the 
Smelts'  flat,  and  making  a  big  consulting  room  of 
it.  And  over  here  in  Mr.  Demry's  room  I  'm  going 
to  have  the  baby  clinic.  I  'm  going  to  have  boxes 
of  growing  flowers  in  every  window;  and  story 
books  and  — " 

"  Yes,"  cried  Dan,  fiercely,  "  you  are  going  to 
be  so  taken  up  with  all  this  that  you  won't  need  me ; 
you'll  forget  about  to-night!" 

But  her  look  silenced  him. 

"  Dan,"  she  said  very  earnestly,  "  I  always  have 


COMES  INTO  HER  OWN  411 

needed  you,  and  I  always  will.  I  love  you  better 
than  anything  in  the  world,  and  I  'm  trying  to  prove 
it." 

A  wavering  light  on  the  upper  landing  warned 
them  that  they  might  be  overheard.  A  moment 
later  some  one  demanded  to  know  who  was  there. 

"  Come  down  and  see!  "  called  Nance. 

Mrs.  Snawdor,  lamp  in  hand,  cautiously  de 
scended. 

"Is  that  you,  Nance?"  she  cried.  "It's  about 
time  you  was  comin'  to  see  to  the  movin'  an'  help 
tend  to  things.  Who's  that  there  with  you?" 

"  Don't  you  know  ?  " 

"Well,  if  it  ain't  Dan  Lewis!"  And  to  Dan's 
great  embarrassment  the  effusive  lady  enveloped 
him  in  a  warm  and  unexpected  embrace.  She  even 
held  him  at  arm's  length  and  commented  upon  his 
appearance  with  frank  admiration.  "  I  never  seen 
any  one  improve  so  much  an'  yet  go  on  favorin' 
theirselves." 

Nance  declined  to  go  up-stairs  on  the  score  of 
time,  promising  to  come  on  the  following  Sunday 
and  take  entire  charge  of  the  moving. 

"  Ain't  it  like  her  to  go  git  mixed  up  in  this  here 
fool  clinic  business?"  Mrs.  Snawdor  asked  of 
Dan.  "  Just  when  she  'd  got  a  job  with  rich  swells 
that  would  'a'  took  her  anywhere  ?  Here  she  was 
for  about  ten  years  stewin'  an'  fumin'  to  git  outen 
the  alley,  an'  here  she  is  comin'  back  again !  She 's 


412  CALVARY  ALLEY 

tried  about   ever'thin'   now,   but   gittin'   married." 

Dan  scenting  danger,  changed  the  direction  of 
the  conversation  by  asking  her  where  they  were 
moving  to. 

"  That 's  some  more  of  her  doin's,"  said  Mrs. 
Snawdor.  "  She 's  gittin'  her  way  at  las'  'bout 
movin'  us  to  the  country.  Lobelia  an'  Rosy  V.  is 
goin'  to  keep  house,  an'  me  an'  William  Jennings  is 
going  to  board  with  'em.  You  'd  orter  see  that  boy 
of  mine,  Dan.  Nance  got  him  into  the  'lectric  busi 
ness  an'  he 's  doin'  somethin'  wonderful.  He 's 
got  my  brains  an'  his  pa's  manners.  You  can  say 
what  you  please,  Mr.  Snawdor  \vas  a  perfect  gentle 
man!" 

It  was  evident  from  the  pride  in  her  voice  that 
since  Mr.  Snawdor's  demise  he  had  been  canonized, 
becoming  the  third  member  of  the  ghostly  firm  of 
Molloy,  Yager,  and  Snawdor. 

"What  about  Uncle  Jed?"  asked  Nance. 
"Where 'she  going?" 

Mrs.  Snawdor  laughed  consciously  and,  in  do 
ing  so,  exhibited  to  full  advantage  the  dazzling  new 
teeth  that  \vere  the  pride  of  her  life. 

"  Oh,   Mr.    Burks   is  goin'   with   us,"   she   said. 
"  It 's  too  soon  to  talk  about  it  yet, —  but  —  er  - 
Oh,  you  know  me,  Nance !  "     And  with  blushing 
confusion  the  thrice-bereaved  widow  hid  her  face  in 
her  apron. 

The  clock  in  the  cathedral  to\ver  was  nearing  nine 


COMES  INTO  HER  OWN  413 

when  Nance  and  Dan  emerged  from  Number  One. 
They  did  not  speak  as  they  walked  up  to  the  corner 
and  stood  waiting  for  the  car.  Their  hands  were 
clasped  hard,  and  she  could  feel  his  heart  thumping 
under  her  wrist  as  he  pressed  it  to  his  side. 

Passers-by  jostled  them  on  every  side,  and  an  im 
portunate  newsboy  implored  patronage,  but  they 
seemed  oblivious  to  their  surroundings.  The  car 
turned  a  far  corner  and  came  toward  them  relent 
lessly. 

"  God  bless  you,  Dan,"  whispered  Nance  as  he 
helped  her  on  the  platform ;  then  turning,  she  called 
back  to  him  with  one  of  her  old  flashing  smiles. 
"  And  me  too,  a  little  bit !  " 


THE   END 


LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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